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UNITED STATES OF AMElilCA 



























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GUSTA^^ 

AIMABI^ 


I4& 16 VESEY STREET 


THE 


REBEL 


CHIEF 


AUTHOR OF ^ 

' Thb Smuggler Her^’ 
The Buccaneer 
Etc.. Etc. 




AND srANliSs- 

|oH/N -W- [well- (ompany-'^^^^ 



“The Diane.” 

Particular attention is invited to 
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rang:in^ in i^rice from $1.50 to $5.50 
each. Our customers are cordially 
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lent Paris-made Corsets, which com- 
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and are absolutely controlled by us 
for the United States. 

James McCreery Co., 

Broadway and 11th Street. 


STUDIES IN ENGLISH SPELLING. 


FIRST LESSON. 

A wealthy young man had a yacht, 
Disfigured with many a spacht, 
SAPOLIO he tried, 

Which, as soon as applied, 
Immediately took out the lacht! 

SECOND LESSON. 

Our girl o’er the housework would sigh, 
Till SAPOLIO I urged her to trigh. 

Now she changes her tune, 

For she’s done work at nune. 

Which accounts for the light in her eigh! 

THIRD LESSON. 

There’s many a domestic embroglio — 

To describe which would need quite a 
foglio, 

Might oft be prevented 
If the housewife consented 
To clean out the house with S APOGLIO! 


FOURTH LESSON. 

Maria’s poor fingers would ache. 

When the housework in hand she would 
tache, 

But her pains were allayed, 

When SAPOLIO’S aid. 

Her labor quite easy did mache! 

FIFTH LESSON. 

We have heard of some marvelous soaps 
Whose worth has exceeded our hoaps, 
But it must be confest. 

That SAPOLIO’S the best 
For with grease spots it easily coaps! 

SIXTH LESSON. 

The wife of a popular colonel 
Whose troubles with “helps” were etol- 
onel 

Now her leisure enjoys 
For the “ new girl” employs 
SAPOLIO in housework diolonell 


LOVELL LIBRARY ADVERTISER. 


1 


HARDMAN,PECK&GO. 

Warerooms, 138 Fifth Ave., N. Y, 

MANUFACTURERS OF 

35,000 THE IN USE. 

HABPMAH 

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WE CLAIM that for purity of tone and phenomen- 
al durabihty it cannot be excelled. 

WE CLAIM that it is the only Piano which im- 
proves after two or three years’ use, 
and retains its full power and tone. 


3 


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For PILES, EUBNS, NEU- 
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Used Internally and Externally. 

POND’S EXTRACT CO., 
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EXTRACT. 

CAUTION.— See that 
the words ‘‘PONO’S 
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blown in each bottle, 
inclosed in a buff-col- 
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Price, 50c., Sl.75. 

POND’S EXTRACT CO., 
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New and Popular Novels. 


MONA’S CHOICE. By Mrs. Alex- 
ander. 1 vol., l2mo, paper 20c. 

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Russell, l vol., i2mo, paper 20c. 


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Warden. 1 vol., 12mo, paper — 20c. 

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RED SPIDER. By S. Baring -G ouLD. 
1 vol., 12nio, paper 2Cc. 

THE BAG OF DIAMONDS. By G. 
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JOHN W. LOVELL CO., Publishers, . 

14 and 16 Vesey St., New York. 




LOVELL’S LIBHAHT. 


COMPLETE CATALOGUE BY AUTHORS. 

LoVBLL’a Libeaby now contains the complete writings of most of the best standard 
authors, such as Dickens, Thackeray, Eliot, Carlyle, Buskin, Scott, Lytton, Black, etc., 
etc. 

Bach number is issued in neat 12mo form, and the type will be found larger, and the 
paper better, than in any other cheap series published. 

JOHIV W. liOVELIi COMPANY, 

P. O. Box 1993. 14: and 16 Vesey Street, New York, ] 


BY AUTHOE OF “ ADDIE’S HUS- 
BAND » 

1106 Jessie 20 

BY G. M. ADAM AND A. E. 
WETHERALD 

846 An Algonquin Maiden 20 


BY MAX ADELER 


295 Random Shots 20 

825 Elbow Room 20 

BY GUSTAVE AIMARD 

560 The Adventurers 10 

667 The Trail-Hunter 10 

673 Pearl of the Andes 10 

1011 Pirates of the Prairies 10 

1021 The Trapper’s Daughter 10 

1032 The Tiger Slayer 10 

1045 Trappers of Arkansas 10 

1052 Border Rifles 10 

1063 The Freebooters 10 

1069 The White Scalper 10 

1071 (luide of the Desert 10 

1075 The Insurgent Chief 10 

1079 The Flying Horseman 10 

1081 Last of the Ancas ...10 

1086 Missouri Outlaws 10 

1089 Prairie Flower 10 

1098 Indian Scout 10 

1101 Stronghand 10 

1103 Bee Hunters 10 

1107 Stoneheart 10 

1112 Queen of the Savannah . .10 

1115 The Buccaneer Chief 10 

1118 The Smuggler Hero 10 

1121 The Rebel Chief 10 


BY MRS. ALDERDICE 

346 An Interesting Case 20 

BY MRS. ALEXANDER 

62 The Wooing O’t, 2 Parts, each 15 

99 The Admiral’s Ward 20 

209 The Executor 20 

349 Valerie’s Fate 10 

664 At Bay 10 

746 Beaton’s Bargain 20 

777 A Second Life 20 

799 Maid, Wife, or Widow... 10 

840 By Woman’s Wit 20 

995 Which Shall it Be? 20 

1044 Forging the Fetters 10 

1105 Mona’s Choice 20 


BY HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 


419 Fairy Tales 20 

BY F. ANSTEY 

30 Vice VersJl; or, A Lesson to Fathers. . 20 

394 The Giant’s Robe 20 

453 Black Poodle, and Other Tales 20 

616 The Tinted Venus 15 

7,55 A Fallen Idol 20 

BY EDWIN ARNOLD 

436 The Light of Asia 20 

455 Pearls of the Faith 15 

472 Indian Song of Songs 10 

BY T. S. ARTHUR 

496 Woman’s Trials 20 

507 The Two Wives 15 

518 Married Life 15 

538 The Ways of Providence 15 

545 Horae Scenes .15 

554 Stories for Parents 15 

563 Seed-Time and Harvest 15 

568 Words for the Wise 15 

574 Stories for Young Housekeepers 16 

579 Lesson.s iu Life 15 

682 Off-Hand Sketches 1$ 

585 Tried and Tempted 15 

BY EDWARD AVELING 

1066 An American Journey 30 

BY W. E. AYTOUN 

351 Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers 20 

BY ADAM BADEAU 

756 Con-spiracy 25 

BY SIR SAMUEL BAKER 

206 Cast np by the Sea 20 

227 Rifle and Hound in Ceylon 20 

233 Eight Years’ Wandering in Ceylon. .20 

BY C. W. BALESTIER 

381 A Fair Device 20 

405 Life of J. G. Blaine. 20 

BY R. M. BALLANTYNE 

215 The Red Eric 20 

226 The Fire Brigade 20 

239 Erling- the Bold 20 

241 Deep Down 20 

BY S. BARING-GOULD 

875 Little Tn’penny 10 

1061 Red Spider 20 


1 


LOVELL’S LIBRARY. 


BY FRANK BARRETT 


1009 The Great Hesper 20 

BY GEORGE MIDDLETON BAYNE 

460 Galaski 20 

BY AUGUST BEBEL 

712 Woman SO 

BY MRS. E. BEDELL BENJAMIN 

748 Our Roman Palace 20 

1077 Jim, the Parson 20 

BY A. BENRIMO 

470 Vic 16 

BY E. BERGER 

901 Charles Auchester 20 

BY W. BERGSOE 

77 Pillone.... 15 

BY E. BERTHET 

866 The Sergeant’s Legacy 20 

BY WALTER BESANT 

18 They Were Married 10 

103 Let Nothing You Dismay 10 

257 All in a Garden Fair 20 

268 When the Ship Comes Home 10 

384 Dorothy Forster 20 

699 Self or Bearer 10 

842 The World Went Very Well Then . .20 

847 The Holy Rose 10 

1002 To Call Her Mine 20 

1109 Katharine Regina 20 


BY BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 


BY R. D. BLACKMORE 

851 Lorna Doone, Part 1 20 

851 Lorna Doone', Part II 20 

936 Maid of Sker 20 

955 Cradock Nowell, Part 1 20 

955 Cradock Nowell, Part II 20 

961 Springhaven : 20 

1034 Mary Anerley 20 

1035 Alice Lorraine 20 

1036 Cristowell 20 

1037 Clara Vaughan 20 

1038 Cripps'the Carrier 20 

1039 Remarkable History of Sir Thos. 

Upmore . . .20 

1040 Erema ; or. My Father’s Sin 20 

BY RHODA BROUGHTON 

23 Second Thoughts 20 

230 Belinda 20 

781 Betty’s Visions 15 

841 Dr. Cupid 20 

1022 Good-Bye, Sweetheart 20 

1023 Red as a Rose is She 20 

1024 Cometh up as a Flower 20 

1025 Not Wisely but too Well 20 

1026 Nancy 20 

1027 Joan 20 

BY ANNIE BRADSHAW 

716 A Crimson Stain 20 

BY CHARLOTTE BREMER 

448 Life of Fredrika Bremer 20 

BY CHARLOTTE BRONTE 

74 Jane Eyre 20 

897 Shirley 20 


3 

4 


40 

48 

82 

85 

93 

136 

142 

146 

153 

178 

180 

182 

184 

188 

213 

216 

217 

218 
225 
232 
456 
584 
678 
958 


The Happy Boy 10 

Arne 10 

BY WILLIAM BLACK 

An Adventure in Thule, etc 10 

A Princess of Thule 20 

A Daughter of Heth 20 

Shandon Bells 20 

Macleod of Dare 20 

Yolande 20 

Strange Adventures of a Phaeton. . . 20 

White Wings 20 

Sunrise, 2 Parts, each 15 

Madcap Violet 20 

Kilmeny 20 

That Beautiful Wretch 20 

Green Pastures, etc 20 

In Silk Attire 20 

The Three Feathers 20 

Lady Silverdale’s Sweetheart 10 

The Four MacNicols 10 

Mr. Pisistratus Brown, M.P 10 

Oliver Goldsmith 10 

Monarch of Mincing Lane .20 

Judith Shakespeare 20 

Wise Women of Inverness 10 

White Heather 20 

Sabina Zembra 20 


BY LILLIE D. BLAKE 


88 

104 

214 

266 

444 

555 

588 

596 

698 

766 

7a3 

814 

868 

869 

870 

871 

872 

873 

877 

878 

879 

880 
881 
882 
883 
886 

887 

888 


105 Woman’s Place To-day 20 j 

597 Fettered for Life 25 j 

BY KEMPEB BOCOCK j H 

1078 Tax the Area 20 i 894 


BY MISS M. E. BRADDON 


The Golden Calt 20 

Lady Audley’s Secret 20 

Phantom Fortune 20 

Under the Red Flag 10 

An Ishmaelite 20 

Aurora Floyd 20 

To the Bitter End 20 

Dead Sea Fruit 2C 

The Mistletoe Bough 20 

Vixen 20 

The Octoroon 20 

Mohawks 20 

One Thing Needful 20 

Barbara; or. Splendid Misery 20 

John Marchmont’s Legacy 20 

Joshua Haggard’s Daughter 20 

Taken at the Flood 20 

Asphodel 20 

The Doctor’s Wife 20 

Only a Clod 20 

Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 

Lady’s Mile 20 

Birds of Prey 20 

Charlotte’s Inheritance 20 

Rupert Godwin 20 

Strangers and Pilgrims 20 

A Strange World 20 

Mount Royal 20 

Just As I Am 20 

Dead Men’s Shoes 20 

Hostages to Fortune 20 

Fenton’s Quest 20 

The Cloven Foot 20 


LOVELL’S LIBRAEY. 


BY ELIZABETH BARRETT 
BROWNING 


421 Aurora Leigh 20 

479 Poems 35 

BY ROBERT BROWNING 

652 Selections from Poetical Works 20 

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 

443 Poems 20 


BY ROBERT BUCHANAN 


818 The New Abelard 20 

696 The Master of the Mine 10 

BY JOHN BUNYAN 

200 The Pilgrim’s Progress 20 

BY ROBERT BURNS 

430 Poems 20 


113 

100 

102 


BY REV. JAS. S. BUSH | 

More Woi'ds about the Bible 20 j 

BY E. LASSETER BYNNER 

Nimport, 2 Parts, each 15 

Tritons, 2 Parts, each 15 ’ 

BY THOMAS CAMPBELL ! 


526 Poems 20 j 

BY LEWIS CARROLL ! 

480 Alice’s Adventures 20 ! 

481 Through the Looking-G-lass 20 

BY THOMAS CARLYLE | 

486 History of French Revolution, 2 I 

Parts, each 25 I 

494 Past and Present 20 


500 The Diamond Necklace ; and Mira- 
beau 20 


603 Chartism 20 

608 Sartor Resartus 20 

614 Early Kings of Norway 20 

620 Jean Paul Friedrich Richter 10 

622 Goethe, and Miscellaneous Essays. . .10 

625 Life of Heyne 15 

628 Voltaire and Novalis 15 

641 Heroes, and Hero-Worship 20 

646 Signs of the Times 15 

650 German Literature 15 

661 Portraits of John Knox 15 

671 Count Cagliostro, etc 15 

678 Frederick the Great, Yol. I 20 

680 “ “ “ Vol. II 20 

691 “ “ “ Vol. Ill 20 

610 “ » » Vol. IV 20 

619 “ “ “ Vol. V 20 

622 “ “ “ Vol. VI. 20 

626 “ “ “ Vol. VII 20 

628 “ “ “ Vol. VIII 20 

630 Life of John Sterling 20 

638 Latter-Day Pamphlets 20 

636 Life of Schiller 20 

648 Oliver Cromwell, Vol. 1 25 


649 “ “ Vol. Ill 


662 Characteristics and other Essays. . . 15 : 
666 Corn Law Rhymes and other Essay a. 15 ; 
658 Baillie the Covenanter and other Es- i 


says 15 : 

661 Dr. Francia and other Essays 15 j 

1088 Wilhelm Meiater’s Apprenticeship, 

2 Parts, each 20 ; 

1090 Wilhelm Meister’s Travels 20 i 


! BY ROSA NOUCHETE CAREY 


i 660 For Lilias 20 

j 911 Not Like other Girls 20 

912 Robert Ord’s Atonement 20 

969 Wee Wifie 20 

960 Wooed and Married 20 

BY WM. CARLETON 

190 Willy Reilly 20 

820 Shane Fadh’s Wedding 10 

821 Larry McFarland’s Wake 10 

822 The Party Fight and Funeral 10 

823 The Midnight Mass 10 

824 PhilPurcel 10 

825 An Irish Oath 10 

826 Going to Maynooth 10 

82'7 Phelim O’Toole’s Courtship 10 

828 Dominick, the Poor Scholar 10 

829 Neal Malone 10 

BY “CAVENDISH” 

422 Cavendish Card Essays . . 15 

BY CERVANTES 

417 Don Quixote 30 

BY L. W. CHAMPNEY 

119 Bourbon Lilies 20 

BY VICTOR CHERBULIEZ 

242 Samuel Brohl & Co. 20 

BY REV. JAS. FREEMAN CLARK 

167 Anti-Slavery Days 20 

BY CRISTABEL R. COLERIDGE 

1028 A Near Relation 20 

BY S. T. COLERIDGE 

523 Poems 30 

BY J. FENIMORE COOPER 

6 The Last of the Mohicans 20 

53 The Spy 20 

865 The Pathfinder 20 

378 Homeward Bound 20 

441 Home as Found 20 

463 The Deerslayer 30 

467 The Prairie 20 

471 The Pioneer 25 

484 The Two Admirals 20 

488 The Water-Witch 20 

491 The Red Rover 20 

501 The Pilot 20 

606 Wing and Wing 20 

512 Wyandotte 20 

51 7 Heiden mauer 20 

519 The Headsman 20 

624 The Bravo 20 

527 Lionel Lincoln 20 

529 Wept of Wish -ton-Wish 20 

532 Afloat and Ashore 20 

539 Miles W ailing ford 20 

543 TheMonikins 20 

548 Mercedes of Castile .20 

563 The Sea Lions 20 

559 The Crater 20 

562 Oak Openings 20 

670 Satan stoe 20 

576 The Chain-Bearer 20 

587 Ways of the Hour 20 

601 Precaution 20 

603 Redskins 26 

611 Jack Tier 20 


8 


LOVELL’S LIBRARY. 


BY BERTHA M. CLAY 


183 Her Mother’s Sin 

277 Dora Thorne 

287 Beyond Pardon 

420 A Broken Wedding-King 

423 Repented at Leisure 

458 Sunshine and Roses 

465 The Earl's Atonement 

474 A Woman’s Temptation 

476 Love Works Wonders 

658 Fair but False 

693 Between Two Sins 

651 At War with Herself 

669 Hilda 

659 Her Martyrdom . . . 

692 Lord Lynn’s Choice 

694 The Shadow of a Sin 

695 Wedded and Parted 

700 In Cupid’s Net 

701 Lady Darner’s Secret 

718 A Gilded Sin 

720 Between Two Loves 

727 For AnothePs Sin 

730 Romance of a Young Girl 

'?33 A Queen Amongst Women 

’738 A Golden Dawn 

739 Like no Other Love 

740 A Bitter Atonement 

744 Evelyn’s Folly 

752 Set in Diamonds 

764 A Fair Mystery 

800 Thorns and Orange Blossoms. . . 

801 Romance of a Black Veil 

803 Love’s Warfare 

804 Madolin’s Lover 

806 Prom Out the Gloom 

807 Wliich Loved Him Best 

808 A True Magdalen 

809 The Sin of a Lifetime 

810 Prince Charlie’s Daughter 

811 A Golden Heart 

812 Wife in Name Only 

816 A Woman’s Error 

896 Marjorie 

922 A Wilful Maid 

923 Lady Castlemaine’s Divorce 

926 Claribel’s Love Story 

928 Thrown on the World 

029 Under a Shadow 

930 A Struggle for a Ring 

932 Hilary’s Folly 

933 A Haunted Life 

934 A Woman’s Love Story 

969 A Woman’s War 

984 ’Twixt Smile and Tear 

985 Lady Diana’s Pride 

986 Belle of Lynn 

988 Marjorie’s Fate 

989 S weet Cymbeline 

1007 Redeem^ by Love 

1012 The Squire’s Darling 

1013 The Mystery of Colde Fell 

1030 On Her Wedding Morn 

1031 The Shattered Idol 

1033 Letty Leigh 

1041 The Mystery of the Holly Tree 

1042 The Earl’s Error. 

1043 Arnold’s Promise 

1051 An Unnatural Bondage 

S364 The Duke’s Secret 


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BY WILKIE COLLINS 

8 The Moonstone, Part 1 10 

9 The Moonstone, Part II 10 

24 The New Magdalen 20 

87 Heart and Science 20 

418 “I Say No” 20 

437 Tales of Two Idle Apprentices 15 

683 The Ghost’s Touch 10 

686 My Lady's Money 10 

722 The Evil Genius 20 

839 The Guilty River 10 

957 The Dead Secret 20 

996 The Queen of Hearts .20 

1003 The Haunted Hotel 10 

BY HUGH CONWAY 

429 Called Back 15 

462 Dark Days 16 

612 Carriston’s Gift 10 

617 Paul Vargas : a Mystery 10 

631 A Family Affair 20 

667 Story of a Sculptor 10 

672 Slings and Aitows 10 

715 A Cardinal Sin. 20 

745 Living or Dead 20 

750 Somebody’s Story 10 

968 Bound by a Spell 20 

BY C. H. W. COOK 

1099 The True Solution of the Labor 
Question 10 

BY KINAHAN CORNWALLIS 

409 Adrift with a Vengeance 25 

BY GEORGIANA M. CRAIK 

1006 A Daughter of the People 20 

BY R. CRISWELL 

350 Grandfather Lickshingle 20 


BY R. H. DANA, JR. 

464 Two Years before the Mast 20 

BY DANTE 

345 Dante’s Vision of Hell, Purgatory, 


and Paradise 20 

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260 Mrs. Darling’s War Letters 20 

BY JOYCE DARRELL 

316 Winifred Power 20 

BY ALPHONSE DAUDET 

478 Tartarin of Tarascon 20 

604 Sidonie 20 

613 Jack 20 

615 The Little Good-for-Nothing 20 

645 TheNabf)b 26 

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463 Mystic London 20 

BY THE DEAN OF ST. PAUL’S 

431 Life of Spenser 10 

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476 A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing 20 

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704 Evolution 20 

BY DANIEL DEFOE 

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370 Twice Told Tales 20 

376 Grandfather’s Chair 20 

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466 Under the Will 10 

566 The Arundel Motto 20 

690 Old Myddleton’s Money 20 

787 A Wicked Girl 10 

971 Noi-a's Love Test 20 

972 The Squire’s Legacy 20 

973 Dorothy’s Venture 20 

974 My First Offer 10 

976 Back to the Old Home 10 

976 For Her Dear Sake 20 

977 Hidden Perils 20 

978 Victor and Vanquished 20 

1029 Brenda Yorke 10 

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683 Poems 30 

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533 Principles and Fallacies of Social- 
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366 Hygiene of the Brain 25 

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743 A Woman’s Vengeance 20 

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753 “ “ Partin 10 

762 “ “ Part IV 10 

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198 Tales of a Traveller ^ 

199 Life and Voyages of Columbus, 

Part 1 20 

Life and Voyages of Columbus, 

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236 Knickerbocker History of New York. 20 

249 The Crayon Papers 20 

263 The Alhambra 15 

272 Conquest of Granada 20 

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281 Bracebridge Hall 20 

290 Salmagundi. 20 

299 Astoria 20 

301 Spanish Voyages 20 

305 A Tour on the Prairies 10 

308 Life of Mahomet, 2 Parts, each .... 15 

310 Oliver Goldsmith 20 

311 Captain Bonneville 20 

814 Moorish Chronicles 10 

821 Wolf erf s Roost and Miscellanies .... 10 

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754 A Modern Midas 20 

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726 Austin Eliot 20 

728 The Hillyars and Burtons 20 

731 Leighton Court 20 

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822 Mark Sea worth 20 

824 Bound Lhe World 20 

335 The Young Foresters 20 

337 Saltwater 20 

833 The Midshipman 20 

BY F. KIRBY 

454 The Golden Dog {Le chien d:’or ). . . .40 

BY A. LAPOINTE 

445 The Rival Doctors .20 

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26 Divorce 20 

600 A Brighton Night 20 

725 Dr. Wilmer’s Love 25 

741 Lorimer and Wife 20 

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797 A Phantom Lover 10 

798 Prince of the Hundred Soups 10 

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469 The Chase 20 

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327 Harry Lorrequer 20 

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719 Rory 0-More 20 

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11 The Coming Race 10 

12 LePa .-..10 

31 Ernest Mai tra vers 20 

32 The Haunted House 10 

45 Alice: A Sequel to Ernest Maltra- 

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65 A Strange Story 20 

59 Last Days of Pompeii 20 

81 Zanoni 20 

84 Night and Morning, 2 Parts, each. .15 

117 Paul Clifford 20 

121 Lady of Lyons 10 

1-28 Money 10 

152 Richelieu 1C 

160 Rienzi, 2 Parts, each 15 

176 Pelham 20 

204 Eugene Aram 20 

222 The Disowned 20 

240 Kenelm Chillingly 20 

245 What Will He i)o with It ? 2 Parts, 

each 20 

217 Devereux 20 

250 The Caxtons, 2 Parts, each 15 

253 Lncretia 20 

255 Last of the Barons, 2 Parts, each ... 15 

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271 My Novel, 3 Parts, each 20 

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289 Godolphin 20 

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1053 Gold Elsie 20 

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212 The Privateersman 20 

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903 The Master Passion 20 

904 A Lucky Disappointment ..10 

905 Her Lord and Master 20 

906 My Own Child 20 

907 No Intentions 20 

908 Written in Fire 20 

909 A Little Stepson 10 

910 With Cupid’s Eyes 20 

931 Why Not? 20 

937 My Sister the Actress 20 

938 Captain Norton’s Diary 10 

939 Girls of Feversham 20 

940 The Root of all Evil 20 

942 Facing the Footlights 20 

943 Petronel 20 

944 A Star and a Heart 10 

945 Ange 20 

946 A Harvest of Wild Oats 20 

947 The Poison of Asps 10 

948 Fair-Haired Alda 20 

949 The Heir Presumptive 20 

950 Under the Lilies and Roses 20 

951 Heart of Jane Warner 20 

952 Love’s Conflict, Part 1 20 

952 Love’s Con flict, Part II 20 

953 Phyllida 20 

954 Out of His Reckoning 10 

979 Her World against a Lie 20 

990 Open Sesame 20 

991 Mad Dumaresq 20 

999 Fighting the Air 20 

BY HELEN MATHERS 

165 Eyre’s Acquittal 10 

1046 Cornin’ Thro’ the Rye 20 

1047 Sam’s Sweetheart 20 

1048 Story of a Sin 20 

1049 Cherry Ripe 20 

! 1059 My Lady Green Sleeves . ..23 


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854 Loom and Lugger 

367 Berkeley the Banker 20 

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379 The Charmed Sea 15 

388 Life in the Wilds 15 

395 Sowers not Rea pers 15 

400 Glen of the Echoes 15 

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45 DukeofKandos 20 

60 The Two Duchesses 20 

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278 Maid of Athens 20 

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328 How It All Came Round 20 

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331 Lucile 20 

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389 Paradise Lost 20 

1092 Poems 35 

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377 Life of Defoe 10 

BY MRS. MOLESWORTH 

1008 Marrying and Giving in Marriage . .10 

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1008 Flora Lyndsay 20 

1074 Roughing it in the Bush 20 

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1085 Life in the Clearings 20 

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487 Poems 40 

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407 Life of Burke 10 

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383 Life of Gibbon 10 

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312 Golden Girls 20 

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1000 Frederick the Great and his Court. .30 

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1054 Goethe and Schiller 30 

1091 Queen Hortense 30 

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33 John Halifax 20 

435 Miss Tommy 15 

751 King Arthur ...20 


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758 Cynic Fortune. 10 

1116 One Traveller Returns 20 

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410 Life of Wordsworth 10 


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564 Hand-Book for the Kitchen 20 

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83 Right and Wrong Uses of the Bible . . 20 

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347 LifeofByi'on 10 

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375 Science at Home 20 

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108 No New Thing 20 

592 That Terrible Man 10 

779 My Friend Jim 10 

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439 Noctes Ambrosianae 30 

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1095 From the Other Side 20 

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196 Altiora Peto 20 

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124 The Ladies Lindores 20 

179 The Little Pilgrim 10 

175 Sir Tom ; 20 

326 The Wizard’s Son 26 

368 Old Lady Mary 10 

602 Oliver’s Bride 10 

717 A Country Gentleman 20 

8J3J The Son of his Father 20 

920 John: a Love Story 20 

925 A Poor Gentleman 20 

994 Lucy Crofton 10 

BY MAX O’RELL 

336 John Bull and His Island 20 

459 John Bull and His Daughters 20 

BY OUIDA 

112 Wanda, 2 Parts, each 15 

127 Under Two Flags, 2 Parts, each.... 20 

387 Princess Napraxine 25 

675 A Rainy June 10 

763 Moths 20 

790 0th mar 20 

806 A House Party 10 

852 Friendship 20 

853 In Maremma 20 

8.o4 Signa 20 

855 Pascarel 20 

BY ALBERT K. OWEN 

655 Integral Co-operation 30 

BY LOUISA PARR 

42 Robin 20 

BY MARK PATTISON 

392 Life of Milton 10 

BY JAMES PAYN 

187 Thicker than Water 20 

330 The Canon’s Ward 20 

659 Luck of the Darrells 20 


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1015 Pemberton 30 

BY F. C. PHILLIPS 

1082 Strange Adventures of Lucy Smith .20 

1083 As in a Looking Glass 2U 

1084 The Dean and his Daughter 20 

1097 Jack and Three Jills 20 

BY EDGAR ALLAN POE 

403 Poems 20 

426 Narrative of A. Gordon Pym 15 

432 Gold Bug, and Other Tales 15 

438 The Assignation, and Other Tales. .15 
447 The Murders in the Rue Morgue. . . .15 


BY WILLIAM POLE, F.R.S. 

406 The Theory of the Modern Scien- 
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BY ALEXANDER POPE 

391 Homers Odyssey 20 

896 Homer’s Iliad 30 

457 Poems 30 

BY JANE PORTER 

189 Scottish Chiefs, Part 1 20 

Scottish Chiefs, Part II .20 

382 Thaddeus of Warsaw 25 

BY C. F. POST AND FRED. C. 
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838 The George-Hewitt Campaign 20 

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339 Poems 20 

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1010 Mrs. Gregory 20 

BY CHARLES READE 

28 Singleheart and Doublcface 10 

415 A Perilous Secret 20 

759 Foul Play 20 

773 Put Yourself in his Place 20 

913 Griffith Gaunt 20 

914 A Terrible Temptation 20 

915 Very Hard Cash 20 

916 It is Never Too Late to Mend 20 

917 The Knightsbridge Mystery 10 

918 A Woman Hater 20 

919 Readiana 10 

BY REBECCA FERGDS REDD 

16 Freckles 20 

408 The Brierfield Tragedy 20 

BY “ RITA ” 

556 Dame Durden 20 

599 Like Dian’s Kiss 20 

BY SIR H. ROBERTS 

101 Harry Holbrooke 20 

BY A. M. F. ROBINSON 

134 Arden 15 

BY REGINA MARIA ROCHE 

411 Children of the Abbey 30 

ROLLIN’S ANCIENT HISTORY. 

IIOS Volume 1 20 

1111 “ II 20 

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1131 “VIII ....20i 


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837 Marked ‘ ‘ In Haste ” 20 

BY DANTE ROSSETTI 

329 Poems 20 

BY JOHN RUSKIN 

497 Sesame and Lilies 10 

505 Crown of Wild Olives 10 

510 Ethics of the Dust 10 

516 Queen of the Air 10 

521 Seven Lamps of Architecture. 20 

537 Lectures on Architecture and Paint- 
ing 15 

542 Stones of Venice, 3 Vols., each 25 

565 Modern Painters, Vol. 1 20 

572 “ “ Vol. II 20 

577 “ “ Vol. III... 20 

589 “ “ Vol. IV 25 

608 “ “ Vol. V 25 

598 King of the Golden River 10 

623 Unto this Last 10 

627 Miinera Pulveris 15 

637 “ A Joy Forever ” 15 

639 The Pleasures of England 10 

642 The Two Paths 20 

644 Lectures on Art 15 

647 Aratra Pentelici 15 

650 Time and Tide 16 

665 Mornings in Florence 15 

668 St. Mark’s Rest 15 

670 Deucalion 16 

673 Art of England 15 

676 Eagle’s Nest 15 

679 ‘ Our Fathers Have Told Us ” 15 

682 Proserpina 15 

685 Vald’Arno 15 

688 Love’s Meinie 15 

707 Fors Clavigera, Part I SO 

708 “ “ Part II 30 

713 “ “ Part III 30 

714 “ “ Part IV 30 

BY MRS. ROWSON 

159 Charlotte Temple 10 

BY W. CLARK RUSSELL 

123 A Sea Queen 20 

399 John Holdsworth 20 

833 A Voyage to the Cape 20 

834 Jack’s Courtship 20 

835 A Sailor’s Sweetheart 20 

836 On the Fo’k’sle Head 20 

997 The Golden Hope 20 

1087 The Frozen Pirate 20 


BY DORA RUSSELL 

816 The Broken Seal 20 

BY GEORGE SAND 

135 The Tower of Perceraont 20 

965 The Lilies of Florence 20 

BY J. X. B. SAINTINE 

710 Picciola 10 

BY MRS. W. A. SAVILLE 

27 Soci al Etiq uetto 16 

BY DR. E. J. SCHELLHOUS 

1094 The New Republic 30 

BY J. C. F. VON SCHILLER 

341 Schiller’s Poems 20 


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171 Tom Cringle’s Log 2C 


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THE REBEL CHIEF. 



CHAPTER 1. 

THE PEAK. 

We are in Mexico, in the very centre of its most beautiful scenery, near Las Cumbres 
or the Peak ; and on the road to the town of the angels. 

The time is the 2nd July 1 8 — , about four in the afternoon. The breeze is just 
rising sc as to cool the atmosphere, as two horsemen, well mounted, emerged from a 
thick clump of yucas and I ananas, and turned into a dusty road, which led by a 
series of successive inclines to a valley in which a limpid stream ran through the 
verdure. 

The travellers, probably struck by the unexpected sight of the grand landscape 
which was so suddenly unfolded before them, stopped their horses, and after gazing 
for some minutes admiringly at the picturesque airangement of the mountains, 
they dismounted, took off their hoises’ bridles, and sat down on the bank of the 
stream. 

J udging from the direction they were following, the travellers a}'peared to come 
from Orizaba, and to be going to Puebla de los Angeles. 

The two horsemen wore the attire of rich hacienderos. Both were armed in a 
formidable manner, and carried with them a complete arsenal. In addition to the 
six-shot revolvers in their holsters, others were thrust through their belts. They 
carried in their hand a first-rate double barrel, turned out by Devismes, the celebrated 
Parisian gunsmith ; and thus each was enabled to fire twenty-six rounds, without 
counting the machete, or straight sabre, hanging at their sid”, the triangular- 
bladed knife thrust into the right boot, and the lasso, or reata, coiled on the saddle, 
to which it was securely attached by a carefully riveted iron ring. 

The elder of the riders was a man of from forty to forty-five years, though he did 
not seem more than six-and-thirty, above the middle height ; he was elegant-ly 
though powerfully built, his well-knit limbs denoted great bodily strength, he had 
marked features and an energetic and intelligent countenance ; his black sparkling 
eyes, ever in motion, were soft, but at times emitted brilliant flashes, whm they were 
aiiiraated, and they then gave his face a harsh and savage expression impossible to 




5 


The Rebel Chief, 


describe ; he had a lofty and spacious forehead, and sensual lips; a beard, black 
and tufted like that of an Ethiopian, and mixed with silvery threads, fell on his 
chest; a luxuriant head of hair, thrown back, covered his shoulders, and his bronzed 
complexion was of a brick colour. In short, judging from his appearance, he was one 
of those determined men who are invaluable in certain critical circumstances, because 
a friend runs no risk of being deserted by them. Although it was impossible to 
distinguish his nationality, his brusque, sharp gestures and his quick imperative 
speech seemed to give him a Southern origin. 

His companion — who was much younger, for he did not appear above eight-and- 
twenty years of age — was tall, rather thin, and delicate-looking, though not at all 
sickly ; his elegant slim stature and extremely small feet and hands denoted high 
birth ; his features were fine, his countenance was pleasing and intelligent, and 
stamped with a great expression of gentleness; his blue eyes, light hair, and, 
above all, the whiteness of his complexion caused him to be at once recognised as a 
European, 

We have said that the two travellers were conversing together, and the language 
they employed was French. 

“ Well, cour t,” said the elder, ** do you regret having followed my advice ? 

By Jove! 1 should be very difficult to please were it so,’’ the one to whom the 
title of count was given replied. “ I have travelled through Switzerland, Italy, and 
the banks of the Rhine, like everybody else, and. must confess that I never before saw 
such exquisite scenery as that which I have gazed on for the last few days — thanks 
to you,” 

You are a thousand times too polite : the scenery is really very fine and remark- 
aUy diversified,” he added, “ and yet I have seen finer.” 

** Finer than this.^” the count exclaimed. “ Oh, sir, that is not possible,*’ 

” You are young, my lord,” the first speaker resumed with a sad smile ; “ vour 
tourist travels have only been child’s play; if, like myself, you had wanderea over 
the savannahs of the interior, you would only have a smile of contempt for the scenery 
that surrounds us.’’ 

“ What yo i say may be true, Mr. Oliver ; unfortunately I am not acquainted 
with the savannahs and prairies to which you refer, and probably shall never see 
them.” 

“ Why not ? ” the first speaker interposed quickly ; “ you are young, rich, strong, 
and free — at least I suppose so. What is there to prevent you attempting an excur- 
cion into the great American desert ? ” 

“I should like it,” the count answered, “but my journey must terminate at 
Mexico.’’ 

“ At Mexico ? ” Oliver repeated in surprise. 

“Alas! yes, sir, so it is ; 1 am not my own master; I have simply come lo this 
country t«: be married.” 

“ Married ! at Mexico ! you, my lord ? ” Oliver exclaimed. 

“ Yes,” he said ; “ married to a woman I do not know, who does not know me 
cither, and who doubtless feels no more love for me than I do for her.” 

“ Then I suppose the young lady is Fiench ? ’’ 

** Not at all ; she is Spanish, and I believe a bit of a Mexican.” 

“That being so, allow me to ask, sir, how it happens that ” 

“ Oh, very naturally so ; my story will not be long. You know my name — T am 
count Ludovic de la Saulay; my family is one of the oldest in France; one of my 
ancestors was one of the leaders of King Clovis, who gave him, as a reward for his 
faithful and valiant services, vast prairies bordered by willows, from which my family 
afterwards derived its name. Though of such noble birth, I have been educated, 
thank Heaven, in ideas of progress sufficiently wide for me to know the value of a 


7 he Peak. 


1 


title in the present age. Still, I was obliged to tell you these details respecting my 
family in order that you might thoroughly understand how my ancestors happened 
to have a younger branch of the family Spanish, while the elder remained French. 
At the epoch of the League, the Spaniards, summoned by the partisans of the Guises, 
with whom they had formed an alliance against King Henry IV., then only called 
King of Navarre, were quartered for a rather lengthened period in Paris. 1 ask your 
pardon, my dear Mr. Oliver, for thus entering into these details.” 

“ Pardon me, my lord, they greatly interest me,” 

The young man bowed, and resumed — 

^‘Now, the Count de Sauiay — alive at that time — was an impetuous partisan of 
the Guises, and a very intimate friend of the Duke de Mayence ; the count had three 
children — two sons, who fought in the ranks of the army of the League, and a 
daughter, who was maid of honour to the Duchess of Montpensier. In short, the 
younger son of my ancestor fell in love with one of the Spanish general’s nieces, 
asked her in marriage, and obtained her hand ; while his sister consented, by the 
persuasion of the Duchess of Montpens er, to give hers to one of the general’s aides- 
de-camp, The artificial and politic duchess thought by these alliances to keep the 
French nobility aloof from him whom she called the Bearnais. As usually happens 
in such cases, her calculations proved to be false. The king reconquered his king- 
dom, and those gentlemen most compromised in the troubles of the League found 
themselves compelled to follow the Spaniards on their retreat, and leave France with 
them. One of the family settled in Mexico, and, according to the custom of our 
people, I am to marry into this branch. You see, my dear sir, that all this is very 
prosaic, and not at all interesting.” 

‘‘Then you aie willing to marry a person you have never seen?” 

^ What would you have? So matters are ; my consent is useless in the affair; 
the engagement was solemnly made by my father. Besides,” he added, with a 
smile, mv presence here proves to you that I did not hesitate to obey. Perhaps, 
had my will been free, I should not have contracted this union ; unfortunately, it did 
not depend on me, and I was obliged to conform to my father’s wishes.” 

” No matter,” said Oliver ; ‘‘to the deuce with nobility and fortune — better a lifh 
of adventure in the desert and poor independence.” 

“I am perfectly of your opinion ; but will you permit me to ask a question ? ** 

** Of course, most readily — two if you like.” 

**Hovv is it that we — who met by accident at the French hotel in Vera Cruz, just 
Ofter I had landed — have become so quickly and intimately attached ? ” 

••As for that, it is impossible for me to answer. You pleased me at first sight; 
feat is the whole story. When we arrive at Mexico we shall separate, doubtless, 
ffliever to meet again.” 

** Mr. Oliver, permit me to believe that you are mistaken ; we shall meet fre- 
quently, and our acquaintance will become a solid friendship.’’ 

“ My lord,” said the other, “ you are a rich gentleman, of good standing in the 
world, while I am but an adventurer, of whose past life you are ignorant, and whose 
name you scarcely know. Our positions are wholly different. So soon as we hav6 
reentered civilisation, I feel that I shnnid soon become a burden to you. Let us 
both remain in our place. This, dc caiivuiced, will be better both for you and 
me.” 

The count was preparing to reply, but Oliver sharply seized his arm. 

Silence,” he said ; “ listen ! ” 

I hear nothing,” the young man remarked at the end of a moment. 

** 'I'hat is true,” the other replied, with a smile; “your ears are net like mine, 
open to every sound that troubles the silence of the desert; a carriage is rapidly 
coming up fioia the diiectioa of Orizaba.” 


8 


The Rebel Chief, 


II is the Vera Cruz diligence, in which my servants and luggage arc.” 

” Perhaps it is, perhaps it is not. I should be surprised if it is.” 

What does it matter to us ? ” the count said. 

** Nothing, if it is the diligence,” said the other; still, it is as well to ta.ke pre- 
cautions.” 

“ Precautions, why } ” the young man asked in astonishment. 

“You know nothing as yet about American life,” said Oliver, presently; “in 
Mexico the first law of existence is always to be on your guard. Follow me, and do 
what you see me do.” 

Without any further remark, he went up to his horse, which he re-bridled, and 
/eapt into the saddle with a lightness and dexterity denoting great practice, and then 
started at a gallop for a clump of liquidambars. 

1'he count, involuntarily overpowered by the ascendency which this man had con- 
trived to obtain over him, jumped into the saddle and went after him. 

“ Good,” said the adventurer ; “ now let us wait.” 

“ Look ! ” Oliver said laconically, after some minutes had elapsed, stretching out 
his band in the direction of the little wood from which they had themselves emerged 
two hours previously. 

The count mechanically turned his head in the direction ; at the same instant 
some ten irregular horsemen, armed with sabres and long lances, eivtered the valley 
at a gallop. 

Then the rolling of a carriage became distinct, and a berlin appeared, dragged at 
a tremendous pace by a team of six mules. 

“ Malediction I ” the adventurer exclaimed, with an angry gesture. 

The young man looked at his companion; the latter was pale as a corpse, and a 
V>tivulsive tremor ran over all his limbs 

Behind the carriage a second squadron of cavalry came up at a gallop, following 
it at a slight distance, and raising clouds of dust as they passed. 

Ere long cavalry and berlin entered the defile, when they soon disappeared. 

“ Confound it,” the young man said, with a laugh ; “ those are prudent 
travellers, at any rate ; they will not run a risk of being plundered by the saltia- 
dors.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” Oliver asked, with an accent of biting sarcasm. “ Well, 
you are mistaken, for they will be attacked within an hour, and probably by the 
soldiers paid to defend them. Follow me.” 

The two riders leant over the necks of their steeds, and -loosening the bridle, 
while at the same time digging in the spurs, tiiey started on the track of tba 
CUveuers. 


CHAPTER n. 


THE TRAVELLERS. 

At the period when our story takes place, Mexico was going" through one of thosv. 
terrible crises whose periodical return has gradually brought this hapless country 
into the extremity to which it is now reduced. 

General Zuloaga, President of the Republic, one day found power too much for 
him, and abdicated in favour of General Miramon, a most energetic and ambitious 
man. Like a good man v other elected presidents, he sought to remain in per- 
manency without the consent of the representatives of the people. 

This lasted some time, until Zuloaga altered his mind, and with the connivance of 
Juarez, the Vice-President, revoked his abdication. 

Miramon was but little affected by this declaration, as he confided in the right he 
imagined he had, and which Congress had sanctioned. He went to the house 
inhabited by General Zuloaga, seized his person, and compelled him to follow him, 
saying, with a sarcastic smile — 

“ As you desire to resume the power, I am going to teach you how a man becomes 
President of the Republic.” 

And keeping him as a hostage, though treating him with a certain degree of 
respect, he obliged him to accompany him on a campaign. 

Zuloaga offered no resistance, but accepted the consequences of his position so far 
as to complain to Miramon about not having a command in his army. The latter 
allowed himself to be deceived by this feigned resignation, and promised that his 
desire should be satisfied at the first battle. But one fine morning Zuloaga and his 
aides-de-camp, who had been appointed to guard, rather than do him honour, 
suddenly disappeared, and it was learnt a few days after that they had taken 
refuge with Juarez. 

Juarez was a cautious, cunning Indian, a profound dissimulator, a skilful 
politician. He was the only President of the Republic, since the declaration of inde- 
pendence, not a military man. Issuing from the lowest classes of Mexican society, 
he gradually rose, by dint of tenacity, to the eminent post which he occupied. 
Knowing better than any one else the character of the nation which he pretended to 
govern, no one knew so well as he how to flatter popular passions and excite the 
enthusiasm of the masses. Hence Zuloaga did not hesitate to recognise him 
solemnly as sole President, legitimately nominated by tne free election of the 
citizens. 

I'he question was distinctly laid down. Miramon represented the conservatives, 
while Juarez represented the democratic party. 

The war then assumed formidable dimensions. Unluckily, money is needed to 
wage war, and that was what J uarez was entirely without. 

On the same day that our narrative commences — at the moment when the sun, 
still beneath the horizon, was beginning to bar the blue sky with brilliant beams of 
purple and gold, a rancho, built of reeds, and resembling a hen-house, offered an 
animated appearance, very singular at so early an hour. 

This rancho, built in the centre of a grassy patch, in a delicious situation, only a 


TO 


The Rebel Chief. 


Tew paces from the Rencon Grande, had been changed a short time before into a 
venta, or inn. 

On a rather large space of ground left unoccupied in front of the venta the bales 
of 3everal convoys of mules were ranged in a semi-circle, and piled on one another 
with some degree of symmetry. In the middle of the circle the arrieros, crouching 
near the fire, were boucaning tasago for their breakfast, or repairing the saddles of 
the animals, which, separated in troops, were eating their provender of maize, placed 
on pesadas spread out on the ground. A berlin, loaded with trunks and boxes, was 
standing in a shed by the side of a diligence,' which had been forced to stop here, 
owing to an accident. Several travellers, who had spent the night in the open air, 
rolled up in their zarapes, were beginning to wake, while others were walking up and 
down, smoking their papilitos ; some who were more active had already saddled 
their horses. 

Ere long the mayoral of the diligence came out from under his vehicle, where he 
had slept on the grass, gave his animals their forage, washed the wounds produced 
by the harness, and then began summoning the travellers. The latter, aroused by 
his shouts, came out of the venta half awake, and went to take their places in the 
coach. They were nine in number, and, with the exception of two individuals dressed 
in the European style, wore the Mexican garb. 

At the moment when the driver, or mayoral — a pure-blooded Yankee — after suc- 
ceeding, by dint of Yankee oaths mingled with bad Spanish, in getting his passen- 
gers into the vehicle, which was halt dislocated by the jolting of the road, was 
taking up the reins to start, the galloping of horses, accompanied by the rattling 
of sabres, was heard, and a band of horsemen, dressed in a sort of uniform, halted 
in front of the rancho. 

This troop, composed of twenty men, was commanded by an alferez, or sub- 
lieutenant. 

This officer was a tall, thin, but muscular man, with a crafty face, sly eye, and 
bistre -coloured complexion. 

“ Hola, compadre,” he shouted to the mayoral, “ you are starting at a very early 
hour, it strikes me.” 

The Yankee, so insolent a moment before, suddenly changed his manner ; he 
bowed humbly, and answered in a soothing voice — 

” Ah I valga me dios ! it is Senor Don Jose Dominquez ! What a fortunate 
meeting ! Has your excellency come to escort the diligence ?” 

“ Not to-day ; another duty brings me.” 

“You are perfectly right; my travellers do not at all deserve so honourable 
an escort. Besides, I shall be obliged to stop at least three hours at Orizaba, 
to repair my coach.” 

In that case, good-bye, and go to the deuce ! ” the officer answered. 

The mayoral hesitated a moment, but then, instead of starting as he was 
ordered, he rapidly got down from his box and went up to the officer. 

“ You have some news to give me, have you not, compadre ?” the latter said. 

” I have senor,” the mayoral replied with a false laugh. 

“ Ah, ah,” said the other; “ and what is it — good or bad ? ” 

” El Rayo is ahead on the road to Mexico.” 

The officer gave an almost inperceptible start at this revelation, 

” You are mistaken,” he said. 

No, I am not, for I saw him as I see you now.” 

The officer seemed to reflect for a minute or two. 

” Very good, I thank you, compadre. And your travellers ? ” 

They are poor scamps, with the exception of two servants of a French count, 
whose Uunks fill up the coach. Do you intend to examine them ?” 


The Travellers, 


11 


I have not yet decided ; I will think over it.” 

“ Well, you will act as you think proper. Pardon me for leaving you, Senor 
Don Jose,” 

“ Good-bye, then, for the present.” 

The mayoral mounted to his box, lashed his mules, and the vehicle started. 

So soon as the officer was alone he went up to the ventero. 

“ Eh 1 have you not a Spanish caballero and a lady here ? ” 

*‘Yes,” the ventero replied, doffing his hat. “Yes, senor officer, a rather 
aged caballero, accompanied by a very young lady, arrived here yesterday a 
little after sunset, in the berlin which you can see there under the shed.” 

“ Those are the people I am sent to serve as escort as far as Peubla de los 
Angeles ; but they do not seem in any hurry to start.” 

At this moment an inner door was opened, a richly dressed gentleman entered 
the common room, and after slightly raising his hat and uttering tne usual Ave 
Maria Purissima, he walked up to the officer. 

He was a man of about fifty-five years of age, tall and elegant, his features 
handsome and noble, with an expression of frankness and kindness. 

“ I am Don Antonio de Carrera,” he said, addressing the officer, “ I heard 
the few words you addressed to our host. I believe, sir, that I am the person 
you have orders to escort.” 

“ It is true, senor,” the sub-lieutenant politely replied; “the name you have 
mentioned is really the one written on the order of which I am the bearer. I 
await your good pleasure.” 

“ I thank you, senor : my daughter is slightly unwell, and I should be afraid 
of injuring her delicate health if I set out at so early an hour. If you have no 
objection, we will remain a few hours longer here, and then set out after break- 
fast, which I shall feel honoured by your deigning to share.” 

“ I offer you a thousand thanks, cabal ero,” the officer replied with a courteous 
bow ; “ but I am only a rough soldier, whose society cannot be agreeable to a 
lady.” 

“ I will not press you, though I should have been flattered to have you as a 
guest ; it is settled then that we are to remain here a little while longer ?” 

“ As long as you please, senor ; I repeat that I am at your orders.” 

After this exchange of politeness the two speakers separated. 

The soldiers dismounted, picketed their horses, and began strolling about. 

The officer whispered a few words to a private, and the Ic-tter, in.stead of 
imitating the example of his comrades, went off at a gallop. 

About ten in the morning the servants of Don Antonio de Carrera put the 
horses to the berlin, and a few minutes after the old gentleman came forth. 

He gave his arm to a lady, so wrapped up in her veil and mantua that it was 
literally impossible to see anything of her face. 

The escort mounted : the old gentleman then entered the carnage, the door 
of which was closed by a footman, who seated himself by the side of the coach- 
man. Four other well-armed valets got up behind the carriage. 

“ Forward 1 ” the officer shouted. 

One-half the escort went in front, the other half formed the rear guard. The 
driver lashed his horses, and carriage and horsemen soon disappeared in a 
cloud of dust. 


CHAPTER Iir. 


THE SALTIADORS. 

The carriage rolled along the Orizaba road, surrounded by its escort. But at a 
distance from that town it turned off and reached by a short cut the 
Puebla road, along which it advanced in the direction of the defiles of Las 
Cumores. 

The lady who accompanied the old gentleman was a girl of sixteen or seven- 
teen years at the most ; her delicate features, her blue eyes bordered by long 
lashes, which, in falling, traced a brown semi-circle on her velvety cheeks, her 
straight nose with its pink or flexible nostrils, her small mouth, whose coral lips 
when parted allowed a glimpse of her pearly teeth, her slightly dimpled chin, 
her pale complexion rendered even paler by the silken tresses of raven hair 
which surrounded her face and fell on her shoulders, produced one of 
those pale and attractive countenances which are only seen in equinoctial 
countries. 

Gracefully reclining in a corner of her carriage, half buried in masses of muslin, 
she allowed her eyes to wander pensively over the country, scarcely answering 
trie remarks which her father addressed to her. 

The old gentleman, though he affected assurance, appeared, however, rather 
restless. 

“ I tell you, Dolores,” he said, “ all this is not clear in spite of the repeated 
affirmations of the heads of the Vera Cruz government. 1 have no confidence 
in them.” 

“ Why not, papa ? ” the young lady asked carelessly. 

“ For a thousand reasons : the principal one is that I am a Spaniard.” 

That is only too true, papa ; but permit me to ask one question.” 

“ Pray do so, Dolores.” 

“ Well, I should like,you to tell me the urgent motive which induced you to 
leave Vera Cruz suddenly.” 

“ The motive is very simple, my child. Serious interests claim my presence 
at Mexico, where I must be as soon as possible. On the other hand, the politi- 
cal horizon is daily growing darker. 1 have therefore resolved, after leaving 
you at Puebla with our relation Don Luis de Pezal, whose god-daughter you 
are, and who loves you dearly, to push on to Arenal, where 1 shall take up 3 'our 
brother Melchior, and then convey you to the capital, where it will be easy for 
us to find effectual protection.” 

“ And you have no other motive but that, papa ? ” the young lady said, lean- 
ing forward, with a slight smile. 

“ What other motive could I have, my dear Dolores ? ” 

“You see I do not know, papa, since I ask you.” 

“You are a curious nina,” he continued, laughingly, shaking his finger at her s 
•^you would like to make me confess my secret.” 

“ Then you have a secret, papa ? ” 

“ That is possible ; but for the present you must be satisfied,” 


The Salliadois. 


^3 


“ Oh, in that case I will not press you. I know too well that when you put 
CO your big voice and knit your brows it is useless to do so.” 

“ You are a madcap, Dolores.” 

“ No matter. I should have liked to know why you assume a false name.” 

“ Oh ! I have no objection to tell you that; my name is too well known as 
that of a rich man for me to venture to carry it across country when so many 
bandits are swarming on the roads.” 

“ Very good, papa,” she replied, shaking her head with a pout ; “ but,” she 
suddenly exclaimed, “ 1 fancy, papa, that the carriage is slackening its 
speed.” 

“ It is true,” the old gentleman answered ; “ what is the meaning of this ? ” 

He pulled down the glass and thrust out his head, but could see nothing. 

The old gentleman called up one of the servants. 

“ What is the matter, Sanchez ? ” the traveller asked. “ I fancy we are not 
going so fast as before.” 

“ That is true, senor amo,” Sanchez answered, “ since we left the plain we 
have not been advancing so rapidly, though I do not know the reason. The 
soldiers of our escort appear alarmed.” 

“ Could the Saltiadors or guerillas who infest the roads think of attacking 
us?” the old gentleman said with ill-disguised anxiety. “ Pray, inquire, San- 
chez ? ” 

The servant bowed, checked his horse to let the carriage pass him, and then 
prepared to carry out the commission with which his master had intrusted him. 

But Sanchez caught up the berlin again almost immediately : his features 
were distorted, his panting voice hissed between his teeth, which were clenched by 
terror, and a cadaverous pallor covered his face. 

“ We are lost, senor amo,” he muttered, as he bent to the carriage window. 

“ Lost I ” the old gentleman exclaimed with a nervous tremor. “ Lost I you 
must be mad, Sanchez ; explain yourself, in Heaven’s name.” 

“ It is unnecessary, mi amo,” the poor fellow stammered. “ Here is Senor 
Don Jose Dominquez, the chief of the escort.” 

“ What is it ? Better, on my soul, a certainty, however terrible its nature, 
than such anxiety.” 

The carriage had halted on a species of platform, about one hundred yards 
square. The old gentleman looked out ; the escort still surrounded the berlin, 
but seemed to be doubled ; instead of twenty horsemen there were forty. 

The traveller understood that he had fallen into a trap. 

After tenderly embracing his daughter, and recommending her to remain quiet 
and not inteifere, whatever might happen, the traveller opened the carriage 
door, and sprang into the road, with a revolver in each hand. The soldiers, 
though surprised at the action, did not make a move to oppose it. 

The traveller’s four servants ranged themselves behind him. 

Sanchez had spoken truly : Don Jose Dominquez was coming up at a gallop ; 
but he was not alone — another horseman accompanied him. 

The latter was a short, thick-set man, with stern features and a side-long 
glance ; the reddish tinge of his complexion proved him to be a full-blooded 
Indian ; he wore the sumptuous uniform of a colonel in a regular army. 

The traveller at once recognised this unpleasant personage as Don Felipe 
Neri Irzabal, one of the guerillero chiefs of Juarez’ party. 

It was with a nervous start and a thrill of terror that the old gentleman 
awaited the arrival of the two men. 

“ Hola, Caballeros,” he shouted to them, “what is the meaning of this ? ” 

“ You shall learn, my dear sir,” the guerillero replied with a grin ; “ and ia 


14 


The Rebel Chief, 


he first place, that you may know at once what you have to expect, I arrest 
you in the name of the country.” 

“ Arrest me ! you ? ” the old gentleman protested. “ By what right, pray ? ” 

“ By what right ? ” the other repeated. “ Viva Cristo ! I might, if I thought 
proper, reply that it was by the right of force.” 

“ Certainly,” the traveller replied sarcastically; “ and I presume it is the only 
one you can invoke.” 

“ Well, you are mistaken, my good sir ; I arrest you as a spy.” 

“ Nonsense ; you are mad, senor colonel. I a traitor and a spy ! ” 

Senor, for some time past the goveriiment of his Most Gracious Excellency 
President Juarez has had its eye on you ; your movements have been watched.” 

“ I am going to Mexico on commercial business, and the president is well 
aware of the fact, as he himself signed my safe conduct.” 

“ All that is true, senor. Our magnanimous president did not wish to have 
you arrested ; he preferred, through consideration for your grey hairs, to leave 
you means of escape ; but your last act of treachery has filled up the measure, 
and I was sent after you with orders to arrest you, and this order I now 
execute.” 

“ And may I know of what treason I am accused ?” 

“You must know better than any one else, Senor Don Andres de la Cruz, 
the motives which induced you to give up your own name and assume that of 
Don Antonio de Carrera.” 

Don Andres — for such in reality was his name — was much startled by this 
revelation ; still he overcame his emotion, and addressed the guerillero once 
more. 

“ Take care of what you are doing, senor colonel,” he said ; “ I am not a 
nobody ; there is at Mexico a Spanish ambassador.” 

“ I do not know what you mean,” Don Felipe answered imperturbably, 
“ If you are alluding to Senor Pachero, I do not think that his protection will 
be very profitable to you, for this gentleman, who entitles himself ambassador 
extraordinary of her Majesty the Queen of Spain, has thought proper to 
recognise the go’^rnment of the traitor Miramon. Will you surrender, or do 
you intend to offer a useless resistance ? Answer ! ” 

Don Andres surveyed the persons who surrounded him. He saw that he had 
no hope of support to expect from any one but his own servants. 

“ I surrender to force,” he said, in a firm voice ; “ but I protest before all 
those who surround me against the violence which is done me.” 

“ Pray protest, my dear sir ; you are quite at liberty to do so, and it is not of 
the slightest consequence to me. Don Jose Dominquez,” he added, “ we will 
at once proceed to a minute inspection of the baggage, and, above all, the 
papers of the prisoner.” 

“ Well played 1 ” exclaimed the old gentleman ; “ unluckily you are a little 
too late.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Only this — that the money and securities you expect to find in my baggage 
are no longer there.” 

“ Malediction ! ” exclaimed the guerillero. “ Devil of a gachupeico I I will 
know where you have hidden your treasures, even if I flay you alive.” 

“ Try it,” Don Andres said ironically, as he turned his back on him. 

The bandit had revealed himself. The guerillero, after the outbreak into 
which his avarice had led him, had no reason to affect moderation. 

“ Very good 1 ” he said ; and bending down to Don Jose’s ear, he whispered 
to him for a few minutes. 


El Rayo» 


15 


The two bandits were doubtless concerting together. 

“ Don Andres,” the guerillero said a moment after, with a nervgws grin, 
"since that is the case I will venture to interrupt your journey. Be goad enough 
to get into your carriage again and we will start ; besides, your daughter, the 
charming Dolores, doubtless requires to be reassured.” 

The old gentleman turned pale, for he comprehended all the horrible extent 
of the threat which the bandit made him ; he raised his eyes to Heaven, and 
prepared to return to the carriage. 

But at the same instant a furious galloping was heard. The soldiers moved 
out of the way, and a horseman, coming up at full speed, dashed like a tornado 
into the centre of the circle. 

The horseman was masked ; a black veil entirely covered his face. He 
pulled up his horse, and, fixing on the guerillero eyes that flashed like live 
coals, asked, in a sharp, menacing voice — 

“ What is going on here ?” 

The guerillero gave a pull at his bridle, and made his horse recoil. 

The soldiers and the officer crossed themselves in terror, and muttered, in a 
low voice — 

“ El Rayo 1 El Rayo ! ” 

" I asked you a question,” the unknown said. 

The forty odd men who surrounded him piteously hung their heads, and 
gradually fell back. 

Don Andres felt hope return to his heart ; a secret foreboding warned him 
that the sudden arrival of this stranger, though it might not entirely change 
his position, would at least produce a more advantageous phase for himself. 
Hence, while everybody else fell back in terror, he, on the contrary, ap- 
proached the stranger with an instinctive eagerness for which he could not 
account. 

Don Jose Dominquez, the commander of the escort, had disappeared. 


CHAPTER IV. 

EL RAYO. 

At this period one man in Mexico had the privilege of concentrating on himself 
the curiosity, fears, and even the sympathy of all. 

This man was El Rayo. 

Who was El Rayo ? Whence did he come ? What did he do ? 

These three questions, short though they were, no one could have answered 
with certainty. 

Towards the close of 1857 he had suddenly appeared on the road that rum 
from Mexico to Vera Cruz, the police control of which he undertook in h/f 
fashion, stopping convoys and mail coaches, protecting or levying black mail 
on thf»i passengers, that is to say, in the second event, obliging the rich to bleed 


The Relel Chief. 


i6 


their purses slightly in favour of their companions less favoured than themselves 
by fortune. 

No one could have said whether Ve was young or old, handsome or ugly 
Drown or fair, for his face jiad never been seen uncovered. 

This mysterious personage was perfectly well informed about everything that 
occurred in the territory of the republic ; he knew not only the name and social 
position of the travellers with whom he thought proper to have dealings, but 
was also acquainted with certain peculiar facts about them which often rendered 
them very ill at ease. 

A stranger thing than any which we have yet mentioned was that El Rayo 
was always alone, and never hesitated to bar the way of his adversaries, no 
matter what their number might be. 

The two presidents of the republic, while carrying on a deadly war to sup- 
plant each other, had each separately tried on several occasions to deliver the 
highway from so troublesome a caballero, who seemed to them a dangerous 
rival ; but all their attempts to obtain this result had failed in a deplorable 
manner. 

On one occasion, however, the government hoped that it was all over with him. 

It was learned that for some nights past he had been sleeping at a rancho 
situated a short distance from Paso-del- Macho. A detachment of twenty 
dragoons, commanded by Carvayal, a cruel and determined guerillero, was 
immediately sent to Paso-del-Macho. 

The commandant had orders to shoot him at once. 

The detachment, therefore, set out in all haste. The dragoons, to whom a 
large reward was promised if they succeeded in their awkward expedition, were 
perfectly prepared to do their duty. 

The soldiers came in sight of the rancho. When about two leagues from 
El Paso they had met a monk, who had his hood drawn over his face, and was 
mounted on a sorry mule. 

The commandant invited the monk to join his squadron, which offer the 
monk accepted. At the moment when the detachment reached the rancho the 
monk dismounted. 

“ What are you doing, padre ?” the commandant asked him. 

“ As you see, my son, I am getting off my mule ; business calls me to a 
rancho a short distance off, and, while leaving you to continue your journey, I 
ask your permission to leave you.” 

“ Oh 1 oh 1 ” the commandant said, “ that will not do, senor padre.** 

“ Why so, my son ? ” the monk asked, approaching the officer. 

“ For a very simple reason, my worthy Fray ” 

“ Pancracio, at your service, senor caballero,” said the monk. 

“ Pancracio — very good,” the officer continued. “ I want you to shrive a 
man who is about to die.” 

“ Who is it ? ” 

“ Po you know El Rayo, senor padre ? ” 

** Certainly ; but I fancy you are mistaken.” 

“ Ah ! what do you mean ? Do you know anything ? ” 

“Certainly I know something, for I am El Rayo, accursed ladrone!” 

And before the officer, startled at this sudden revelation, which he was so far 
from expecting, had regained his coolness, El Rayo had seized him by the leg, 
hurled him on the ground, leaped into his saddle, and drawing two revolvers 
concealed under his gown, he dashed at full speed upon the detachment, firing 
with both hands simultaneously, and uttering his terrible war-cry — “ El Rayo ! 
El Rayo 1 ” 


El Rayo, 


17 


The soldiers disbanded and fled in all directions. 

El Rayo, after passing through the whole detachment, of whom he killed 
seven, and hurled an eighth to the ground with his horse’s chest, suddenly 
checked the rapid pace of his steed^ and, after halting for a few minutes a hun- 
dred yards off with an air of defiance, pulled his horse round, and returned to 
the officer, who was still lying on the ground as if dead. 

“ Eh, commandant ! ” he said to him, as he dismounted, “here is your horse; 
take it back, it will serve you to rejoin your soldiers ; for my part, I require it 
no longer.” 

He then waved his hand to him, bestrode his mule, and proceeded to the 
rancho, which he at once entered. 

We need not add that he slept peacefully till the morning, and that the 
officer and soldiers so eager in his pursuit did not dare disturb his rest. 

Such was the man whose unexpected apparition among the escort of the 
berlin had caused such great terror to the soldiers. 

El Rayo stood for an instant calm, cold, and frowning in the face of the 
soldiers grouped in front of him, and then said, in a sharp, distinct voice — 

“ Senores, I fancy you have forgotten that no one but myself has the right to 
give orders on the high roads of the republic. Senor Don Felipe Neri,” he 
added, turning to the officer, “ you can turn back with your men ; you under- 
stand me?” 

“ I do understand you, caballero,” the colonel replied ; “ still, t fancy ” 

“ Not a word more ! ” El Rayo interrupted him violently. “ Weigh my words 
carefully, and mind you profit by them : those whom you expected to meet a 
few paces further on are no longer there ; the corpses of several of them are 
serving as food for the vultures.” 

“ Senor,” the officer said, “ I know not whether you are a man or a demon 
thus alone to impose your will on brave men. To die is nothing for a soldier 
when he is struck in the chest when facing the enemy : once already I have 
recoiled before you, but do not wish to do so again ; so kill me to-day, but do 
not dishonour me.” ' 

“ I like to hear you speak thus, Don Felipe,” El Rayo coldly answered, “ for 
bravery becomes a soldier. In spite of your plundering instincts and bandit 
habits I see with pleasure that you do not lack courage. Order your soldiers, 
who are trembling like the poltroons they are, to fall back, for I am going to 
give you the satisfaction you desire.” 

“ Ah, caballero,” the officer exclaimed, “ can it be possible?” 

“To stake my life againk yours ?” El Rayo interrup'ed him, mockingly ; 
** why not ? ” 

Without losing an instant the officer turned his horse and ordered his 
troopers to fall back, a manoeuvre which they performed with the most praise- 
worthy eagerness. 

When Don Andres de la Cruz saw the turn that matters were taking, he 
thought it his duty to hazard a few observations. 

“ Pardon me, caballeto,” he said, addressing the mysterious stranger, “while 
sincerely thanking you for your intervention, permit me to remark that I have 
been delayed a long time already, and that I should like to continue my jour- 
ney in order to protect my daughter from danger.” 

“No danger threatens Dona Dolores, senor,” El Rayo coldly answered; 
“ this delay of only a few minutes cannot possibly have any injurious conse- 
quences for her.” 

“ But still ” Don Andres interposed. 

“You would disoblige me by insisting further, caballero,” El Rayo interrupted 


i8 


The Rebel Chief. 


him, dril/. “ You have, as I know, excellent revolvers, be kind enough to lend 
one of them to Senor Don Felipe. They are loaded, I suppose ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” Don Andres replied, offering the officer one of his pistols. 

The latter took it, and turned it over in his hands. 

“ I do not know how to use these weapons,” he said. 

“ Oh, that is very easy,” El Rayo courteously replied, “and you will be per- 
fectly acquainted with their mechanism in an instant. Senor Don Andres, be 
kind enough to explain to this caballero the management of these weapons.” 

The Spaniard obeyed, and the officer at once comprehended the explana- 
tion. 

“ Now, Senor Don Felipe,” El Rayo resumed, “listen to me attentively. 1 
consent to give you this satisfaction on the condition that, whatever the issue 
of the combat may be, you agree to turn back immediately after. Do you agree 
to this ? ” 

“ Certainly, senor.” 

“ Very good. Now, then, this is what you and I are going to do ; so soon as 
we have dismounted we will station ourselves twenty paces from each other ; 
does that distance suit you ? ” 

“ Perfectly, excellency.” 

“ At a signal given by me you will fire the six shots of your revolver.” 

“ Pardon me, excellency, but suppose I kill you with these six shots ? ” 

“ You will not kill, me, senor,” El Rayo answered coldly, 

“ Do you think so ? ” 

“ I am sure of it ; it is not easy to kill a man of my stamp,” El Rayo said. 

Don Felipe made no reply, but, devoured by a dull rage, with pale brow and 
frowning gesture, he resolutely went to place himself twenty paces from his 
adversary. 

“ Now,” said El Rayo, “ pay great attention to aiming true ; revolvers, good 
though they are, generally have the fault of carrying a little too high. Fire ! ” 
Don Felipe did not let the invitation be repeated, but rapidly fired three 
shots. 

“ Much too quick,” El Rayo cried ; “ I did not even hear the whistle of the 
bullets.” 

All eyes were fixed, all chests were panting. The officer, demoralised by the 
coolness of his adversary and the ill-success of his firing, felt involuntarily fas- 
cinated by the black motionless statue before him, whose eyes he could see 
sparkling like live coals through the holes of the mask ; drops of cold perspira- 
tion gathered on his hair, which stood erect with horror, and his former 
assurance had abandoned him. 

Still, anger and pride gave him the necessary strength to conceal from the 
spectators the frightful agony he was suffering. By a supreme effort of the 
will he assumed an apparent calmness, and fired again. 

“ That is better,” said El Rayo, “ but a little too high. Try another.” 
Exasperated by this fire, Don Felipe pulled the trigger. 

The bullet struck the rock about an inch above the stranger’s head. 

Only one bullet was now left in the revolver. 

“ Advance five paces,” said El Rayo ; “ do not throw away your last chance,” 
Without replying to this cutting sarcasm, the officer bounded like a wild 
beast, stopped at fifteen paces, and fired. 

It is now my turn,” the stranger said, as he fell back five paces ; “ you for- 
got to take your hat off, caballero, and that is a want of courtesy which I can- 
not tolerate.” 

Then drawing one of the pistols thrust through his belt, he cocked it. 


The Hacienda del ArenaL 


19 


stretdied out his arm, and fired, without taking the trouble of aiming. The 
officer’s hat was hurled from his head, and rolled in the dust. 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Don Felipe, “ you are a demon.” 

“ No,” El Rayo answered, “ I am an honest man. Now begone.” 

“ Yes, I will go ; but whether you are man or fiend I will kill you.” 

El Rayo went up to him, seized him violently by the arm, drew him on one 
side, and lifting the veil which covered his features showed him his face. 

“ You recognise me now, I suppose ? ” he said to him in a hollow voice ; 
** but remember that, now you have seen me face to face, our next meeting will 
be mortal. Begone.” 

Don Felipe made no reply ; he remounted his horse, placed himself at the 
head of his terrified soldiers, and started at a gallop along the Orizaba road. 


CHAPTER V. 

THE HACIENDA DEL ARENAL. 

Four days had passed. Count Ludovic de la Saulayand Oliver were still riding 
side by side. 

Ail around them extended an immense plain covered with luxuriant vegeta- 
tion, intersected by a few water-courses, on the banks of which were huddled 
the humble cabins of several unimportant pueblos ; numerous flocks browsed 
here and there, watched by mounted vaqueros, bearing the lasso on the saddle, 
a machete at their side, and a long lance in its rest. 

The two travellers were slowly following the last windings of a narrow track 
that ran down with a gentle slope to the plain. 

The count stopped suddenly and burst into a cry of admiration. 

“ Ah, ah,” said Oliver, “ I was aware that you were an amateur, and it was a 
surprise I prepared for you ; how do you like it ? ” 

“ It is admirable ; I never saw anything so beautiful,” the young man ex- 
claimed. 

“Yes,” the adventurer resumed, with a stifled sigh, “it is very fair for a 
country spoilt by the hand of man. As I have told you several times, it is only 
in the savannahs of the great Mexican desert that it is possible to see nature as 
God has made it.” 

The count smiled at this sally. 

“ Yes, yes, I repeat, it is a very fair success. Think how lovely this land- 
scape must have been in the early days of the world.” 

The young man’s laughter was redoubled at these words. 

“On my faith,” he said, “you are a charming companion, Mr. Oliver; and 
when I part from you I shall often regret your agreeable company.” 

“ In that case get ready to regret me, my lord,” he replied, with a smile, *‘for 
we have only a few minutes left to pass together.” 

“How so?” 


ao 


The Rebel Chief, 


An hour at the most ; but let us go on. The sun is beginning to grow 
hot.” 

They loosened their horse’s bridles and slowly went down the almost insen- 
sible incline which would lead them to the plain. 

“ Are you not beginning to feel the want of a rest after your fatigue, my 
lord ? ” the adventurer asked, as he carelessly rolled a cigarette. 

Really no ; the journey has seemed delightful, although monotonous.” 

“ How monotonous ? ” 

“ Well, in France frightful stories are told about countries beyond the sea 
where bandits are found in ambush every step you take. I had my head stuffed 
with stories to make one’s hair stand on end. I was prepared for surprises, 
ambushes, desperate fights, and all that sort of thing.” 

“ You are not yet out of Mexico.” 

That is true ; but my illusions are destroyed. I no longer believe in Mexi- 
can bandits or ferocious Indians; it is not worth while to come so far to see 
nothing more than is to be seen in this country.” 

“ What would you have ? ” the adventurer replied, with an accent of almost 
imperceptible irony ; “ civilisation is gaining on us.” 

“Laugh, but let us return to our subject, if you please.” 

“ I wish nothing more, my lord. Did you not say, among other things, while 
talking with me, that you intended to go to tEe Hacienda del Arena! ? ” 

“ I did say so, sir.” 

“ Oh ! since that is the case, the question is becoming simplified.” 

“ How so ? ” 

“ Look before you, my lord. What do you see ? ” 

** A magnificent building that resembles a fortress.” 

‘‘Well, that building is the Hacienda del Arenal.” 

“ Can it be possible ? You are not deceiving me ? ” asked the count. 

“ For what purpose ? ” the adventurer said, gently. 

“ Why ! in this way the surprise is even, more charming than I supposed.’' 

“ Ah ! by-the-bye, I forgot one circumstance, which, however, is of some 
importance to you ; your servants and all your baggage have been at the 
hacienda for the last two days.” 

“You are an amiable companion, Mr. Oliver; I thank you sincerely for ail 
your attentions to me.” 

“ Nonsense, you are joking.” 

“ Do you know the owner of this hacienda ? ” 

“ Don Andres de la Cruz ! very well.” 

“ What sort of man is he ? ” 

“ A true-hearted and intelligent man. As accessible to the poor as to the 
rich.” 

“ Hum ! you are drawing a magnificent portrait.” 

“ It is below the truth ; he has a great many enemies.” 

“ Enemies ? ” 

“ Yes, all the scoundrels in the country, and they swarm in Mexico.” 

“ And his daughter Dolores ? ” 

“ Is a delicious girl of sixteen, even better hearted than she is beautiful, in- 
nocent, and pure.” 

“ You will accompany me to the hacienda, sir, I suppose ? ” said the 
count. 

“ No, I shall not see Senor don Andres ; in a few minutes I shall have the 
honour of taking leave of you.” 

They rode on silently side by side for a few minutes longer. 


Tfie Hacienda del Arenat. 


21 


liiey had hurried on their horses, and were now rapidly nearing the 
hacienda. 

It was one of those magnificent residences built in the earliest times of the 
conquest, half-palace half-fortress, such as the Spaniards erected at that day on 
their estates, in order to hold the Indians in check. 

The almanas, or battlements that crowned the walls testified to the nobility 
of the owner of the hacienda, as gentlemen alone possessed the right of placing 
battlements on their mansions. 

The dome of the hacienda chapel could be seen glistening in the ardent sun- 
beams. 

The nearer the travellers approached the more lively the landscape appeared. 
At each instant they met horsemen, arrieros with their mules, and Indians run- 
ning with burdens hanging on their backs by thongs passed round their foreheads. 
Then came herds, driven by vaqueros, monks trotting on mules, women, chil- 
dren, in a word busy persons of all ranks and sexes, who were coming and 
going. 

When they reached the foot of the hill crowned by the hacienda, the adven- 
turer stopped his horse at the moment when it was entering the path that led to 
the main gate of the hacienda. 

“ My lord,” he said, “ permit me to take my leave of you.” 

“ Not before you have promised to see me again.” 

“ Count, it will perhaps be better if we never meet again.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ Nothing insulting or personal to you ; permit me to shake your hand.” 

“ Oh, most willingly,” the young man exclaimed, as he warmly offered him 
his hand. 

“ And now farewell — farewell once again ; time flies rapidly, and I ought to 
have been a long way from here before now.” 

The adventurer then darted away with the speed of an arrow. 

The count looked after him as long as it was possible to see him ; and when 
he was hidden by a turn in the road the young man heaved a sigh. 

'■ What a singular character I ” he muttered in a low voice. “ Oh, I shall see 
him again ; it must be.” 

The young man lighdy gave his horse the spur, and entered the path which 
would lead him in a few minutes to the top of the hill and the principal gate of 
the hacienda. 

The young man dismounted in the courtyard, and handed his horse to a 
groom. 

At the moment when the count was walking towards a large door surmounted 
by a verandah, and which gave admission to the apartments, Don Andres went 
out, ran eagerly towards him, pressed him warmly to his heart, and embraced 
him several times, while saying — 

“ Heaven be praised, here you are at last ! ” 

- The count, thus suddenly taken by surprise, had allowed himself to be seized 
and embraced without exactly comprehending what was happening to him, or 
with whom he had to deal ; but the old gentleman, perceiving his amazement, 
did not leave him long in embarrassment, but stated his name, adding — 

“ I am your near relative, my dear count, your cousin ; hence, stand on no 
ceremony, act here as if you were at home. This house, with all it contains, is 
at your disposal, and belongs to you.” 

The young man began protesting, but Don Andres once more interrupted 
him. 

“ I am an old fool,” he said. “ I am keeping you here, listening to r^y 


22 


The Rebel Chief, 


maundering, and forget that you have had a long ride, and must need 
rest.” 

“ My dear cousin,” the count answered ; I thank you a thousand times for 
your kind attention ; but I think it would be only polite for you to introduce me 
to Dona Dolores ere I retire.” 

“ There is no hurry for that, my dear count ; my daughter is at this moment 
shut up in her boudoir with her women.” 

“Very well, my cousin, then I will indeed confess, since you are so good as 
to place me so thoroughly at my ease, that I shall not be at all sorry to take a 
few hours’ rest.” 

“ Did I not know it ?” Don Andres replied, gaily. 

The haciendero thereupon led his guest to the apartments which had been 
tastefully prepared and furnished under the immediate inspection of Don 
Andres. 

The suite consisted of four rooms. The count’s bedroom, with dressing- 
room and bath-room attached, a study, serving as a drawingroom, an ante- 
chamber, and a room for the count’s valets. 

By means of a few partitions, the suite had been separated from and rendered 
entirely independent of the other apartments of the hacienda. 

The count, newly landed in Mexico, and who, like all foreigners, formed a 
false idea of a country which he did not know, was far from expecting to find at 
the Hacienda del Arenal so convenient a lodging. He warmly thanked Don 
Andres for the trouble he had been kind enough to take in rendering his stay 
in the house agreeable. 

Don Andres, highly pleased with this compliment, rubbed his hands and 
withdrew. 

When left alone with his valet, the count after changing his dress, and as- 
suming another more suitable to the country than the one he was wearing, 
questioned his servant as to the way in which he had performed the journey from 
Vera Cruz. 

This valet was a man of about the same age as the count, deeply attached 
to his master, whose foster-brother he was ; a powerfully-built fellow, tolerably 
good-looking, very brave, and possessing a quality very precious in a servant — 
that of seeing nothing, hearing nothing, and only speaking when he received an 
express order to do so. 

His name was Raimbaut, and he was a Basque ; continually part icular about 
etiquette, and professing a profound respect for his master. He never spoke 
of him save in the third person, and at whatever hour of the day or night the 
count might call him he never presented himself before him unless dressed in 
the strict garb he had adopted, and which was composed of a black coat with a 
stand-up collar and gold buttons, a black waistcoat, black knee-breeches, white 
silk stockings, buckled shoes, and white cravat. 

The count’s second servant was a tall lad, twenty years of age, robust and 
sturdy — godson of Raimbaut, who had undertaken to train him for his duties. 
He did the heavy work and wore the count’s livery ; his name was Lanca 
Ibarru. He was devoted to his master, and awfully afraid of his godfather. 
He was active, courageous, crafty, and intelligent ; but these qualities were 
slightly tarnished by his gluttony and pronounced taste for the dolce far nisntee, 

Raimbaut’s story was a short one. Nothing at all had happened to him, with 
the exception of the order which a strange man had delivered to him, as from 
his master, not to continue his journey to Mexico, but to have himself conducted 
to the Hacienda del Arenal. 

The count recognised the truth of what the adventurer had told him : he 


Through the Window, 


n 


dismissed his valet, sat down on a butana, took up a book, and very shortly 
after fell fast asleep. 

At about four in the forenoon, just as he was waking, Raimbaut entered 
the room, and announced that Don Andres de la Cruz was waiting for him to 
sit down to table, as the hour for the evening meal had arrived. 

The count cast a glance at his toilette, and, preceded by Raimbaut, who 
acted as his guide, proceeded to the dining-room. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THROUGH THE WINDOW. 

The dining-room of the Hacienda del Arenal was a vast, long room, lighted by 
Gothic windows lined with coloured glass. The walls, covered with oak panel- 
ling, rendered black by time, gave it the appearance of a Carthusian refectory 
in the fifteenth century. An immense horseshoe table, surrounded by benches, 
except at the upper end, occupied the entire centre of the room. 

When Count de la Saulay entered the dining-room, the other guests, num- 
bering from twenty to five-and-twenty, were already assembled. 

Don Andres kept up the custom of making his people eat at the same table. 

Don Andres de la Cruz was standing at the end of the room, between Dona 
Dolores, his daughter, and Don Melchior, his son. 

We will say nothing of Dona Dolores, with whom the reader is already ac- 
quainted. Don Melchior was a young man of nearly the same age as the 
count. His tall stature and powerful limbs rendered him a gallant gentleman, 
in the common acceptance of the term. His features were manly and marked, 
and his beard was black and full. He had a large, well open eye, a fixed and 
piercing glance ; his very brown complexion had a slight olive tinge; the sound 
of his voice was rather rough, his accent harsh, while his countenance was 
stern, and its expression became menacing and haughty upon the slightest 
emotion. 

So soon as the introductions had been made by Don Andres, the party took 
their seats. The haciendero, after bidding Ludovic sit on his right hand, by 
his daughter’s side, made a sign to the latter. She repeated the Benedicite, the 
guests said Ame7i^ and the meal commenced. 

The Mexicans, like the Spaniards, are extremely sober ; they do not drink 
during meals. 

By a delicate attention, Don Andres offered wine to his French guest. 

The meal was silent, in spite of the repeated efforts of Don Andres to ani- 
mate the conversation. The count and Don Melchior limited themselves to 
the exchange of a few conventional phrases, and then held their tongues. 

At length dinner was over. They rose from table, and the servants of the 
hacienda dispersed to go to their work. 

The count, disturbed by the cold and measured reception which Don Mel- 


24 


The Rebel Chief, 


chior had offered h'm, alleged the fatigue of the journey as a reason for wish- 
ing to retire to his apartments. 

Don Andres consented to this with much repugnance. Don Melchior and 
^he count exchanged a ceremonious bow. Dona Dolores gave the young man 
a graceful bow, and the count withdrew, after warmly shaking the hand which 
his host held out to him. 

It took Count de la Saulay, who was habituated to the comfortable elegance 
and pleasant relations of Parisian life, to become used to the sad, monotonous, 
and savage existence at the Hacienda del Arenal. 

In spite of the cordial reception which had been given him by Don Andres 
de la Cruz, the young man speedily perceived that his host was the sole person 
of the family who regarded him favourably. 

Dona Dolores, though very polite to him, and even gracious in their daily 
relations when chance brought them together, still seemed to be embarrassed 
in his presence, and to shun every occasion when he could converse with her 
in private. 

This conduct on the part of a girl to whom he had been betrothed from his 
childhood, for whose sake he had crossed the Atlantic almost against his will, 
and solely to honour the engagement made by his family in his name, naturally 
surprised and mortified a man like Count de la Saulay. 

Naturally but little inclined to the marriage which his family wished to 
force him into, not feeling at all enamoured of his cousin, whom he had 
scarce taken the trouble to look at, the count would easily have taken advan- 
tage of the repugnance which she seemed to feel for him — would not only have 
consoled but congratulated himself on the breaking off of his marriage with 
her, had not his self-esteem been too extensively implicated in a way very 
insulting to him. 

Though sincerely desirous in his heart that this marriage, which displeased 
him for a thousand reasons, might not be completed, he would still have liked 
that the rupture, without coming absolutely from him, should not come so dis- 
tinctly from the young lady. 

Dissatisfied with himself and the persons by whom he was surrounded, feel- 
ing himself in a false position, which could not fail to become ridiculous ere 
long, the count thought of getting out of it as speedily as possible. But, 
before provoking a frank and decisive explanation on the part of Don Andres 
de la Cruz, the count resolved to know positively what he had to depend on as 
regarded his affianced. 

This resolution once formed and fully resolved in his mind, the count, who 
found himself very unoccupied at the hacienda, set about watching the young 
lady’s conduct, determined, once he had acquired acertainty, to retire and return 
as speedily as possible to France. 

In spite of her indifference for the count, we have remarked, however, that 
Dona Dolores felt herself obliged to be polite and attentive to the count, 
although not so amiable as he might have desired : an example which her 
brother completely dispensed himself from following towards his father’s 
guest, whom he treated with such marked coldness that it would have been 
impossible for the count not to notice it, though he disdained to let it be seen. 
Hence he feigned to take the young man’s rough and even brutal manner as 
natural and perfectly in accord with the manners of the country. 

From the first moment that they met, Don Melchior and the count seemed 
equally little satisfied with each other; the Frenchman appeared too mannered 
and efeminate to the Mexican, and, per contra^ the latter repulsed the other by 
the coarseness of his nature and the triviality of his gestures and expressions 


through the Windoiiy, 




But if there had been only this instinctive antipathy between the two young 
men, it would probably have disappeared by degrees, and friendly relations 
would have been established between them, when they knew each other better 
and could consequently appreciate one another’s good qualities. But this was 
not the case ; it was neither indifference nor jealousy that Don Melchior felt for 
the count, but a hearty Mexican hatred. 

Whence did this hatred spring ? 

The young haciendero was completely wrapped up in mysteries ; his actions 
were as gloomy as his countenance. Enjoying unbounded liberty, he used and 
abused it as he pleased to the fullest extent by going in and out without ac- 
counting to anybody. It is true that his father and mother, doubtless accustomed 
to this behaviour, never asked him any questions as to where he had been, or 
what he had been doing, when he reappeared after an absence which was fre- 
quently prolonged for a week. 

On such occasions, he bowed silently to the company, sat dowm without utter- 
ing a syllable, ate, then twisted a cigarette, which he lighted, and withdrew 
to his apartments without further notice of the party. 

Once or twice Don Andres, who understood perfectly well how unpolite such 
conduct was towards his guest, tried to apologise for his son, by throwing the 
blame of this apparent rudeness on his very serious occupations, which com- 
pletely absorbed him ; but the count replied that Don Melchior appeared to 
him a charming cavalier, and that he saw nothing but what was perfectly natural 
in his mode of acting towards him. 

Don Andres, though not duped by his guest’s apparent gentleness, had not 
considered it prudent to dwell on this subject. 

Don Melchior was feared by all the people belonging to the hacienda. 

It was evident that this gloomy youfig man exercised over all who surrounded 
him an influence, which, though occult, was probably the more formidable on 
that account. 

Nearly two months had elapsed since the young man’s arrival at the hacienda. 
He had passed the time in reading or riding about the country, on which occa- 
sions he was nearly always ac ompanied by the majordomo of the hacienda, a 
man of about forty years of age, with a frank and open face, a short, muscular 
and powerfully built man, who appeared to be very intimate with his master. 

This majordomo, Leo Carral, had struck up a great liking for the young 
Frenchman. 

During their long rides over the plain he took pleasure in perfecting the 
count in the art of riding, and made him understand the defective principles of 
the French school. 

The count, by his advice, had adopted the Mexican garb. 

Don Andres de la Cruz rubbed his hands with glee on seeing the man whom 
he already regarded almost as his son -in -law assume the garb of the country. He 
had even on this occasion adroitly tried to lead the conversation to the subject 
he had nearest his heart, that is to say, the young man’s marriage with Dona 
Dolores. But the count, always on his guard, avoided this awkward subject. 

One night when the count, who had retired to his apartments, was reading 
later than his wont, at the moment when he closed his book and prepared to go 
10 bed, raising his eyes accidentally, he fancied he saw a shadow pass before 
the glass door that opened on the huerta. 

The night was advanced; all the inhabitants of the hacienda were or ought to 
be asleep two hours before. Who was this intruder ? 

Without accounting for the motive that urged him, Ludovic resolved to find 

Out. 


26 


The Rebel Chief. 


He got up from the butacca in which he was seated, took from a table two 
revolvers, in or.ier to be prepared for any event, and opening the door as sottly 
as he could, he went forth into the huerta and proceeded in the direction where 
he had seen the suspicious shadow disappear. 

The night was magnificent ; the moon shed as much light as broad day. 

As the count very rarely entered the huerta, and hence was ignorant of its 
arrangement, he hesitated to enter the walks. 

He therefore stopped to reflect ; perhaps he was mistaken, had been the dupe 
of an illusion, and what he had taken for a man’s shadow might possibly be 
that of a branch agitated by the night breeze. 

This observation was not only just, but logical, hence the young man care- 
fully guarded himself against yielding to it ; at the end of an instint a smile 
curled his lips, and, instead of entering the garden, he cautiously slipped along 
the wall. 

After gliding along thus for about ten minutes the count stopped. 

“ Good,” he muttered, after looking cautiously around, ‘‘ I was not mis- 
taken.” 

He then bent forward, cautiously parted the leaves and branches, and looked 
out. 

Almost immediately he drew himself back, suppressing a cry of surprise. 

The spot where he was was exactly opposite the suite of apartments occupied 
by Dona Dolores de la Cruz. 

A window in this suite was open, and Dona Dolores, leaning on the window- 
ledge, was talking to a man who was standing in the garden. 

It was impossible for the count to recognise the man, although he was only a 
few yards from him. 

“ Ah 1 ” the count muttered, “ I was noNn^istaken.” In spite of the blow this 
discovery dealt his vanity, the co int uttered these words with a mental 
satisfaction at having guessed correctly. 

Still, though the two spoke softly, they did not lower their voices so as to 
render them inaudible at a short distance. 

“ Good heaven,” the young lady said, with emotion, “ I tremble, my friend, 
when I pass several days without seeing you.” 

“ Confound it,” the count muttered, “ that fellow is dearly beloved.” 

This aside made him lose the man’s reply. The young lady continued — 

“ Am I condemned to remain much longer here ? ” 

“ A little patience : I trust that everything will be ended soon,” the stranger 
answered, in a low voice ; “ and what is he doing ? ” 

“ He is still the same, as gloomy and mysterious as ever,” she replied. 

“ And the Frenchman ? ” 

“ Ah 1 ah I ” said the count, “ let us hear what is thought of me.” 

“He is a most agreeable person,” said the young lady; “ for the last few 
days he has seemed sad.” 

*• Poor girl,” the count said, “ she has perceived that I am growing tired. 
But, by the way, can I be mistaken, and this man is no lover?” 

During this aside, the two speakers had continued their conversation, which 
had been totally unheard by the young man, when he began to listen again. 
Dona Dolores was concluding — 

“ I will do it, as you insist on it ; but is it very necessary, my friend ? ” 

“ Indispensable, Dolores. But now we must part ; I have remained here too 
long as it is.” 

The stranger pulled his hat down over his eyes, and muttered the word 

Farewell,” 


The Rancho, 




The count had remained motionless at the same spot, a prey to a profound 
stupefaction. The stranger passed close enough to touch him, though without 
seeing him. At this moment a branch knocked off his hat, a moon-ray fell ftdl 
on his face, and the count then recognised him. 

“ Oliver 1 ” he muttered ; “ it is he, then, that she loves.” 

The young man went to bed, but could not sleep ; he passed the whole night 
in forming the most extravagant projects. 

Before forming any resolution, he said — 

“ I wish to have an explanation with her. Very certainly I do not love her, 
but for my honour’s sake it is necessary that she should be thoroughly convinced 
that 1 am not a fool.” 

Feeling calmer after he had formed a definitive resolution, the count closed 
his eyes and fell asleep. 

On waking, he saw Raimbaut standing at his bedside. 

“ What is it ? what do you want ? ” he said to him. 

“ It is a letter for monsieur le comte,” the valet answered. 

“ Ah 1 ” he exclaimed ; “ can it be news from France ? ” 

“ I do not think so ; this letter was given to Lanca by one of the waiting 
women of Dona Dolores de la Cruz, with a request to deliver it to monsieur le 
comte as soon as he woke.” 

“ This is strange,” the young man muttered, as he took the note and ex- 
amined it attentively. 

The note was from Dona Dolores de la Cruz, and only contained 
these few words, written in a delicate though rather tremulous hand — 

“ Dona Dolores de la Cruz earnestly requests Senor don Ludovic de la 
Saulay to grant her a private interview for a very important affair at three 
o’clock in the afternoon of to-day. Dona Dolores will await the count in her 
own apartments.” 

“ This time I cannot make head or tail of it,” the count exclaimed. 


CHAPTER VIL 

THE RANCHO. 

Tw the days of the Aztecs the territory which now forms the State of Puebla 
svas considered by the inhabitants a privileged holy . land, and the sanctuary of 
the religion. Considerable ruins, very remarkable from an archaeological point 
of view, still bear witness to the truth of our statement ; three principal 
pyramids exist in a very limited space. 

Of these three pyramids, one is justly celebrated ; it is the one to which the 
inhabitants of the country give the name of “ The mountain built by human 
hands.” 

This pyramid, crowned with cypresses, and on the top of which now stands 
a chapel dedicated to “ Nuestra Senora de los remedeos,” is entirely constructed 


The Rdei Chief. 


an 


of bricks ; its height is one hundred and seventy feet, and its base, according to 
the calculations of Humboldt, is 1,355 feet in length. 

The pyramid of Cholula in no way resembles those to be seen in Egypt, 
which are covered with stone on all sides. It is a thoroughly wooded mound, 
the top of which can be easily reached, not only on horseback, but in a 
carriage. 

A Christian chapel stands on the top of the pyramid, at the very spot where 
the temple dedicated to Quetzalcoatl was built. 

It was about four o’clock in the morning, the stars were beginning to dis- 
appear in the depths of the sky, the horizon was striped with large grey bands 
that incessantly changed their colour, and gradually assumed all the colours of 
the rainbow, until they at last became blended into one red mass ; day waS 
breaking, and the sun was about to rise. At this moment two horsemen issued 
from Puebla, and proceeded at a sharp trot along the Cholula road. 

Both were carefully wrapped up in their zarapes, and appeared well armed. 

At about half a league from the town they entered a narrow path. _ 

This path, which was very badly kept, like all the means of communication 
in Mexico, formed numberless turns, and was cut up by so many ravines and 
quagmires that there was the greatest difficulty in riding along it without 
running the risk of breaking one’s neck twenty times in ten minutes. Here and 
there came arroyos, which had co be crossed with the witer up to the horses* 
girths ; then there were mounds to ascend and descend ; lastly, after at least 
twenty-five minutes of this difficult riding, the two travellers reached the base 
of a species of pyramid clumsily made by human hands, entirely covered with 
wood, and rising about forty feet above the plain. 

On reaching this spo^ the two strangers halted and dismounted. 

The two men then left their horses to themselves, thrust the barrels of their 
guns into a crevice at the base of the hill, and pressed on them, using the butt 
as a leverage. 

Although the pressure was not greatly exerted, an enormous stone, which 
seemed completely to adhere to the ground, became slowly detached, turned on 
invisible hinges, and unmasked the entrance of a cave. 

This grotto received air and light through a great number of imperceptible 
fissures. 

“ Go, Lopez,” said one of the strangers. 

“ Are you going up above ? ” the other asked. 

“ Yes ; you will join me there in an hour, unless you see me beforehand.** 

“ Good ! That is understood.” 

He then whistled to the horses, and the animals trotted up and entered the 
cavern.' 

“ Good-bye for the present,” said Lopez. 

The stranger gave him an affirmative nod. The servant entered in his turn, 
let the stone fall behind him, and it fitted so exactly into the rock that there 
was not the slightest solution of continuity. 

The stranger remained motionless, with his eyes fixed on the surrounding 
plain.* 

When the stone had fallen into its place again he threw his gun on hia 
shoulder and began slowly ascending the pyramid. 

From the top of the mound there was a vast prospect. On one side was to 
be seen Lapotecas, Cholula, haciendas, and villages ; on the other, Puebla, with 
its numerous painted and conical cupolas, which made it resemble an eastern 
city. 

The stranger remained for an instant pensive, with his eyes turned to the 


The Rancho. 


29 


plain, which was completely deserted at this early hour, and which the first 
sunbeams were beginning to gild with lustrous tints ; then, after breathing a 
suppressed sigh, he pushed the hurdle covered with a cowhide which served as 
door to a rancho, and disappeared in the interior. 

The rancho externally had the wretched appearance of a hut almost falling 
into ruins ; still the interior was more comfortably arranged than might have 
been reasonably expected. 

The first room — for the rancho contained several — served as parlour and 
sitting-room, and communicated with a lean-to outside, used as a kitchen. The 
whitewas’ied walls of this room were adorned with six or eight of those coloured 
engravings manufactured at Epinal, and with which that town inundates the 
world. In a corner, about six feet from the ground, a statuette, representing 
Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe, the patron saint of Mexico, was placed on a 
mahogany console, edged with points, on which were fixed yellow wax tapers, 
three of which were lighted. Six equipales, four butaccas, a sideboard covered 
with various household articles, and a large table placed in the middle of the 
room, completed the furniture of this apartment, which was lighted by two 
windows with red curtains. The floor was covered with a mat of rather delicate 
workmanship. 

One article of furniture was a Black Forest cuckoo clock, surmounted by some 
bird or other, which announced the hours and half-hours by singing. 

This cuckoo was placed opposite the entrance door, and between the two 
windows. 

A door opened on the right into the inner room. 

At the moment when the stranger entered the rancho the room was empty. 

He leant his gun in a corner, took off his hat, which he laid on a table, 
opened a window, up to which he drew a butacca, then rolled a husk cigarette, 
which he lit and smoked calmly and coolly. 

“ Half-past five I Good 1 I have time ; he will not arrive before,” he 
muttered. 

While speaking thus to himself, the stranger threw himself back ; his eyes 
closed, and a few minutes later he was sleeping soundly. 

His sleep had lasted about half-an-hour, when a door behind him was 
cautiously opened, and a pretty woman, three-and-twenty at the most, with 
blue eyes and light hair, came into the room stealthily. 

The young woman’s face evidenced gaiety, blended with extreme kindness. 
Her features, though not regular, formed a coquettish and graceful whole, which 
pleased at the first glance. 

She came up softly to the sleeper, with her head thrown back, and a finger 
laid on her lip, doubtless to recommend two persons who followed her — a 
middle-aged man and woman — to make as little noise as possible. 

The woman appeared about fifty years of age, the man sixty ; the woman 
wore the garb of Mexican rancheros ; as for the man, he was a vaquero. 

All three, on coming close to the stranger, stopped before him, and intently 
regarded him. 

At this moment a sunbeam entered through the open window. 

“ Vive Dieu 1 ” exclaimed the stranger, in French, as he sprang up suddenly ; 

** I really believe I was asleep.” 

“ Parbleu I Mr. Oliver,” the ranchero replied, in the same language ; “ what 
harm is there in that ? ” 

“ Ah ! there you are, my good friends,” he said ; it is a joyous waking for 
me, since I. find you at my side. Good day ! Louise, my girl. Good day ! 
mother Therese ; and good day to you, too, my old Loick 1 ” 


3 ° 


The Rebel Chief. 


** You will breakfast with us, I hope ? " the young woman asked. 

“ Is that a thing to ask, girl ? ” said the vaqueio. “ I should like to see him 
decline 1 ” 

“ Come, rough one,” Oliver said, “ do not growl. I will breakfast.” 

“ Ah 1 that is all right,” the young woman exclaimed. And, aided by Therese, 
who was her mother as Loick was her father, she instantly began making 
preparations for the morning meal. 

** But, you know,” said Oliver, “ nothing Mexican.” 

“ All right ! ” Louise answered ; “ we will have a French breakfast.” 

“ Bravo I the news doubles my appetite.” 

Whil-; the two women went backwards and forwards from the kitchen to the 
dining-room, preparing the breakfast and laying the table, the two men 
remained near the window, and were conversing together. 

“ Are you still satisfied ? ” Oliver asked his host. 

“ Perfectly,” said the other. “ Don Andres de la Cruz is a good master; as for 
No Leo Carral, I do not complain of him. He is a worthy man, although a 
majordomo. We get on famously together.” 

“ All the better. I should have been grieved had it been otherwise. How- 
ever, it was on my recommendation that you consented to take this rancho, and 
if there were anything ” 

“ I would not hesitate to inform you of it, Mr. Oliver ; but in that quarter all 
goes well.” 

Then something is going wrong elsewhere,” remarked the advrenturer. 

“ I do not say so, sir,” the vaquero stammered, with embarrassment. 

“Do you remember, Loick,” said Oliver, sternly, “the conditions I imposed 
on you when I granted you your pardon ? ” 

“ Oh I I do not forget them, sir.” 

“ Then Dominique still believes himself ” 

“ Yes, still,” he replied, hanging his head ; “ but he does not love me.” 

“ What makes you suppose so ? ” 

“ I am only too certain of it, sir ; ever since you took him on the prairies his 
character has completely changed.” 

“ Perhaps it is a foreboding,” the adventurer remarked, in a hollow voice. 

“ Oh, do not say that, sir,” the other exclaimed ; “ but musing is a bad 
counsellor.” 

“ I know it ; but justice will be done, some day, on the real culprit.” 

“ Oh, sir, and I tremble at the terrible end of this sinister history.” 

“ Yes, Loick,” the adventurer said, with concentrated energy, “ very terrible 
indeed!” 

The vaquero gave a sigh, which did not escape the other. 

“ I have not seen Dominique,” he said, with a sudden change of tone ; “ is he 
still asleep ? ” 

“ Oh, no j you ha ve instructed him too well, sir. He is always the first to 
rise.” 

“ In that case, how is it that he is not here ? ” 

“ Oh ! ” the vaquero said, with hesitation, “ he has gone out.” 

“Already!” the adventurer muttered, in a gloomy voice. “Then let us 
breakfast.” 

The meal commenced under rather melancholy auspices, but, thanks to the 
efforts of the adventurer, the former gaiety soon returned, and the end of tho 
breakfast was as merry as could be desired. 

All at once Lopez suddenly entered the rancho* 

“ Sencr Loick,” he said, “ here is your son,” 


The Wounded Man, 


35 


All rose and left the rancho. At about a gunshot from the rancho they saw 
a man leading a horse by the bridle ; a rather heavy burden was fastened on 
the animal’s back. 

The distance prevented them from distinguishing the nature of this burden, 
“ It is strange,” Oliver muttered, in a low voice | “ can it be he ? Oh, 1 must 
make certain without delay,” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE WOUNDED MAM. 

A PROPOUND calm brooded over the country ; the night breeze had died away ; 
no other sound but the continual buzzing of the infinitely little creatures that 
toil incessantly at the unknown task for which they were created by Providence 
disturbed the silence of the night ; the deep blue sky had not a cloud ; a gentle, 
penetrating brilliancy fell from the stars, and the moonbeams flooded the land- 
scape with gleams that gave a fantastic appearance' to the trees and mounds 
whose shadows they immoderately elongated ; bluish reflections seemed to 
pervade the atmosphere, whose clearness was such that the heavy flight of the 
coleoptera buzzing round the branches could be easily distinguished ; here and 
there fireflies darted like will-o’-the-wisps through the tall grass, which they lit 
up with phosphorescent gleams as they passed. 

A horseman was approaching, and going in the direction of the Puebla ; half 
asleep on his steed, he held the bridle rather loose, and allowed it to go much 
as it pleased, until the animal, on reaching some cross roads, in the middle of 
which a cross stood, gave a sudden start and leaped on one side, cocking its 
ears and pulling back forcibly. 

The rider, aroused from his sleep, or his reflections, would have been thrown 
had he not gathered up his horse by pulling at the bridle. 

“ Holah ! ” he exclaimed, drawing himself up sharply and laying his hand on 
his machete, “ what is going on here ? Come, Moreno, my good horse, why 
this terror?” 

But though the master patted it as he spoke, and both seemed to be on good 
terms, the animal still continued to pull back and display^igns of terror. 

“ This is not natural. Come, my good Moreno, what is iN* ” 

And the traveller again looked around him, but this time mere attentively, 
and peering at the ground, “ Ah ! ” he said all at once, on noticing a corpse 
stretched out on the road, “ Moreno is right ; there is something there.* 

While speaking thus to himself, the horseman had dismounted. 

But as he was prudent, and in all probability long accustomed to traverse 
the roads of the Mexican confederation, he cocked his gun, and held himself 
in readiness either for attack or defence. 

He then approached the corpse, and gazed at it for an instant with the moSt 
serious attention. 


The Rebel Chief, 




!t only required one glance to attain for certainty that there was nothing to 
be feared from the unhappy man lying at his feet. 

“ Hum ! ” he continued, “ this poor fellow seems to be very bad ; if he is not 
dead, he is not worth much more.” 

After this fresh aside, the traveller, who was no other than Dominique, the 
ranchero’s son, to whom we just now alluded, fastened his horse to a tree ana 
took off his zarape. 

After taking all these precautions quietly and methodically, for he was a very 
careful man in everything, Dominique took off the alforjas or double pockets 
carried on the back of the saddle, put them on his shoulder, and kneeling down 
by the side of the outstretched corpse, opened the wounded man’s clothes and 
put his ear to his chest. ^ 

Although he was o?ily two -and -twenty years of age, Dominique appeared at 
least eight-and-twenty. His features were handsome, masculine, and intelli- 
gent, his black open eyes looked you boldly in the face, his ample forehead, his 
auburn hair, that curled naturally, his large mouth with rather thick lips, his 
nercely curled moustache, his well-designed and squarely cut chin, gave his face 
an expression of frankness, boldness, and kindness, which was really attractive, 
while at the same time rendering him most distinguished looking. A singular 
thing in this man, who belonged to the humble class of vaqueros, his hands and 
feet were wonderfully small and exquisitely shaped. 

“ Luckily, I have kept up my Indian habits,” said Dominique, with a smile, 
“and always carry my medicine-bag about with me.” 

Without loss of time he probed the wound and washed it carefully. The 
blood dripped drop by drop from the violet edges of the wound ; he uncorked a 
vial, poured on the wound a few drops of reddish liquor, and the blood at once 
ceased flowing as if by enchantment. Then with a skill that evidenced much 
practice he bandaged the wound, on which he delicately laid some herbs 
pounded and moistened with the red fluid he had before employed. 

Still the unhappy man gave no sign of life ; his body continued to retain the 
inert rigidity of a corpse ; but a certain moistness existed at the extremities, a 
diagnostic which made Dominique suppose that life was not completely extinct 
in this poor body. After dressing the wound with care, he gently raised the 
man and leant him against a tree; then he began rubbing his chest, temples, 
and wrists with rum and water, only stopping from time to time to examine 
with an anxious eye his pale contracted face. Ever3'-thing appeared to be use- 
less ; no contraction, no nervous quiver, indicated the return of life. 

Dominique ceased his frictions for a moment and smote his forehead, as if a 
sudden thought had risen to his brain. 

“ Where the deuce can my head be ? ” he muttered ; and feeling in his alforjas, 
which Seemed inexhaustible, he brought out a carefully stopped gourd. 

He opened the wounded man’s clenched teeth with his knife-blade, thrust the 
gourd between his lips, and poured into his mouth a portion of the contents, 
while examining his face anxiously. At the end of two or three minutes the 
wounded man gave a slight shiver, and his eyelids moved. 

“Ah ! ” said Dominique, “this time I believe I shall win the day.” 

And, laying the gourd by his side, he recommenced his frictions with renewed 
ardour. A sigh faint as a breath issued from the wounded man’s lips, his limbs 
began ere long to lose a little of their rigidity — life was returning by inches. 
The young man redoubled his efforts ; by degrees the breathing, though faint 
and broken, became more distinct, the features relaxed, and the cheek-bones 
displayed two red spots, although the eyes remained closed ; the lips moved 
as if the wounded man were trying to utter some words. 


The Wounded Man. 


33 


** Come,” said Dominique with delight, “ all is not over yet, but he will have 
a very narrow squeak for it. Bravo ! I have not lost my time ! But who 
on earth can have given him so tremendous a sword-thrust ? People do not 
fight duels in Mexico. On my soul, if I were not afraid of insulting him, I 
could almost swear I know the man who so nearly slit up this poor wretch I ” 

In the meanwhile life, after long hesitating to return to this body which it 
had almost abandoned, had commenced an earnest struggle with death, which 
it drove further and further away. The movements of the wounded mao 
became more distinct and decidedly more intelligent. Twice already his eyes 
had opened, although they closed again immediately ; but the improvement in 
him was sensible ; he would soon recover his senses; it was now but a question 
of time. 

“ How do you feel ? ” the young man asked him with interest. 

At the sound of this unknown voice a convulsive quiver agitated the whole of 
the wounded man’s body ; he made a gesture as if repulsing a terrifying image, 
and muttered in a low voice — 

“Kill me!” 

“ Certainly not,” Dominique exclaimed joyfully. 

The wounded man partly opened his eyes, glanced wildly around, and at 
length gazed at the young man with an expression of indescribable horror. 

“ The mask ! ” he exclaimed, “ the mask 1 Oh 1 back, back I ” 

“The brain has suffered a very severe shock,” the young man muttered; 
he is suffering from a feverish hallucination, which, if it continued, might pro- 
duce madness.” 

“ Murderer ! ” the wounded man continued feebly, “ kill me.” 

“He insists on that as it seems; this man has fallen into some frightful 
snare ; his troubled mind only recalls the last scene of murder, in which he 
acted so unfortunate a part.” 

“ Do I not know perfectly well I am lost ?” the wounded man said; “ kill me 
therefore.” 

“ Listen to me without interruption,” the young man answered. “ I am not 
one of the men who brought you into your present state. I am a traveller, 
and have no other desire but that of being useful to you. Without me you 
would be dead; do not render more difficult the hard task I have taken on my- 
self.” 

The wounded man made a sudden effort to rise, but nis strength betrayed 
him, and he fell back with a sigh of discouragement. 

“ I cannot,” he murmured. 

“ It is a miracle that the frightful sword-thrust you received did not kill you 
on the spot.” 

“ But if you are not the assassin, who are you ? ” the wounded man asked. 

“ Who am I ? A poor vaquero, who found you expiring here.” 

“And you swear to me that your intentions are good ? ” 

“ I swear it, on my honour.” 

“Oh! I wish to live,” the wounded man resumed, with concentrated energy, 
“ I can understand the desire — it is quite natural on your part.” 

“ Yes, I wish to live, for I must avenge myself.” 

“That sentiment is just, for vengeance is permitted.” 

“Oh, I am rich; I will reward you.” 

“ Why speak of reward ? ” said the ranchero. “ Do you believe that devoted- 
ness can be bought ? ” 

“ Still, it is my duty.” 

“ Not a word more on this subject, I must request, senor.” „ 


14 


The Reltf Chief. 


“ Act as you please, then.” 

“ Promise me first not to raise any objection to what I may consider 
proper.” 

“ I promise it.” 

“ Good. In this way we shall always understand one another. Day will 
soon appear.” 

“ But where can I go ? I cannot possibly make the slightest movement.” 

“ That need not disturb you. I will put you on my horse.” 

“ I leave myself in your hands.” 

“ That is the best thing you could do. Do you wish me to take you to your 
house?” 

“ My house! ” the wounded man exclaimed. “ You know me then, senor — 
know my residence ? ” 

“ I do not know you. How could I, when I never saw you'before ? ” 

“ That is true,” the wounded man muttered. “ I am mad 1 This man is 
honest. I am a traveller. I came from Vera Cruz, when I was suddenly 
attacked, plundered of everything I possessed, and left for dead at the foot of 
this cross.' As for a home, I have no other at this moment than the one you 
may be pleased to offer me. This is my whole story.” 

“ Whether it be true or not does not concern me, senor. Let me request 
you, therefore, to refrain from giving me information which I do not ask of you, 
and which, in your present condition, can only be injurious to you.” 

In truth, it was only by a violent effort of the will that the wounded man had 
succeeded in keeping up so long a conversation. The shock he had received 
was too powerful, his wound too severe, for him to talk any longer. Already he 
felt his arteries throbbing — a mist spread before his sight ; there was a sinister 
bnzzing in his ears ; an icy sweat beaded on his temples ; his thoughts, into 
which he had found it so difficult to introduce a little regularity and coherence, 
were beginning to desert him again. 

“ My friend,” he murmured, heaving a sigh of resignation, “ do with me what 
you please ; I feel as if I were dying.” 

Dominique watched his movements with an anxious eye; he hastened to 
make him drink a few drops of cordial. This help was efficacious, and the 
wounded man felt himself recalled to life. He tried to thank the young man. 

“ Silence 1 ” the latter said to him, quickly ; “ you have talked too much 
already.” 

And he carefully wrapped him in his cloak, and laid him on the ground. 

“ There,” he continued, “ so far you are all right ; now try to sleep.” 

The wounded man attempted no resistance ; the soporific he had swallowed 
was already acting upon him ; he smiled softly, closed his eyes, and was soon 
plunged in a calm and strengthening sleep. 

“ I like better to see him thus than he was on my arrival,” said Dominique, 
gladly. “ But all is not over yet.” 

He unfastened his horse, put on the bridle again, and led it close to the 
wounded man. After making a species of seat on the animal’s back with some 
blankets, to which he added his zarape, pulling it off without the slightest liesi- 
tation, he raised the wounded man in his powerful arm, with as much ease as 
if he had been a child instead of a tall rather corpulent man, and placed him 
softly on the seat, where he fastened him as well as he could. 

When the young man felt assured that his patient was in a position as con- 
venient as circumstances permitted, he started his horse, whose bridle he held, 
Without leaving his place by the side of the wounded man. 


CHAPTER IX 


A DISCOVERY. 

Dominique marched very gently, supporting with a firm hand the wounded 
man seated in his saddle, having only one desire — that of reaching the rancho 
as soon as possible. 

In spite of the impatience he felt, it was unfortunately impossible to hurry 
his horse for fear of an accident across the broken and almost impracticab'e 
roads he was compelled to follow ; hence it was with an indescribable feeling of 
pleasure that, in coming within two or three gunshots of the rancho, he noticed 
some persons running towards him. 

When the men were only a few yards from him he stopped and shouted. 

“ Eh I Come on ! Carai ! you ought to have been here long ago.” 

“ What do you mean, Dominique ? ” the adventurer asked in French. 

“ Why, that is plain enough, I fancy. Don’t you see that I am bringing a 
wounded man ? ” 

” A wounded man ! ” Oliver started with a tiger’s bound, which brought 
him up to the young man’s side. “ To what wounded man are you alluding ? * 

” Hang it ! to the one I have seated to the best of my ability on my horse.” 

The adventurer, without replying, roughly pulled away the zarape thrown 
over the wounded man’s face, and examined it for some minutes with an ex. 
pression of agony, grief, anger, and regret, impossible to describe. His face, 
which had suddenly turned pale, assumed a cadaverous hue ; a convulsive 
tremor ran over his whole body ; his eyes, fixed on the wounded man, seemed 
to emit flashes, and had a strange expression. 

“ Oh I ” he muttered in a low voice, convulsed by the storm that agitated his 
heart ; “ that man ! It is he — really he — and is not dead ! ” 

Dominique did not understand a word. He gazed at Oliver with amaze- 
ment. 

“ Tell me,” he said, with an outburst of passion, “ what is the meaning of 
this? I save a man. In spite of a thousand difficulties I succeed in bringing 
here this poor wretch, who, without me, would have died like a dog, and this is 
how you greet me ! ” 

“ Yes, yes, rejoice ! ” the adventurer said to him, with a bitter accent ; “ you 
have committed a good action. I congratulate you on it, Dominique, my 
friend 1 ” 

“ You know that I do not understand you ! ” the young man exclaimed. 

“ Well I is there any need that you should understand me, poor boy ? ” he 
replied, with a disdainful shrug of the shoulders. “ You have acted according 
to your nature, without reflection or after-thought. I have no more reproaches 
to address to you than explanations to offer you.” 

‘^But, come ; what do you mean ?” 

“ Nothing ; ljut, since you do not know him, how is it that you are bringing 
him to the rancho, without giving us notice ?” 

For a very simple reason. 1 wa^returning from Cholula, when I found him 


36 


The Chief. 


lying across the road, groaning like a bull in the deat^ throes. What could I 
do? Did not humanity command me to succour him 

“Yes, yes,” Oliver replied, ironically ; “ you acted well, and certainly I am far 
from blaming you. Of course, a man could not meet one of his fellow-men in 
this cruel condition without assisting him.” Then, suddenly changing his tone, 
and shrugging his shoulders with pity, he added, “ Did you receive such les- 
sons in humanity from the red-skins, among whom you lived so long ? ” 

The young man ."-.ttempted to answer, but he hurriedly checked him. 

“ Enough, now the evil is done,” he said to him ; “ it is of no use alluding to 
it. Lopez will convey him to the cavern of the rancho, where he will nurse 
him.” 

Lopez obeyed, and the young man allowed him to do so. He was beginning 
to comprehend that possibly his heart had deceived him, and that he had too 
easily given way to a feeling of human’ cy. 

There was rather a lengthened silence. At length the adventurer raised his 
head. 

“ Have you spoken with this man ? ” 

“ Only a few words.” 

“ But he must have told you who he is.” 

“Yes, I think so. He told me that he had come a short time previously from 
Vera Cruz and was proceeding to Mexico, when he was attacked unawares and 
plundered by men whom he was unable to recognise.” 

“ He told you nothing else about his name or position ?” 

“ No, not a word.” 

The adventurer remained pensive for a moment. 

“ Listen,” he then continued, “ and do not take what I am going to say to 
you in ill part.” 

“ From you, Master Oliver, I will hear anything, as you have the right to say 
everything to me.” 

“ Good ! do you remember how we became acquainted ? ” — ^ 

“ Certainly ; I was a child then, wretched and sickly, dying of want and 
misery in the streets of Mexico.” 

“ Go on.” 

“ Then you enabled me to find my parents again.” 

“ Good ; what next ? ” 

“ Hang it, you know that as well as I do. Master Oliver.” 

“ That is possible, but I wish you to repeat it to me.” 

“ One d'ly you came to the rancho, you took me away with you and took me 
to Sonora and Texas, where we hunted buffalo. At the end of tA’O or three 
years you caused me to be adopted by a Comanche tribe.” 

“ Very good ; I see that you have a good memory. Go on.” 

“I obeyed you, and remained among the Indians, hunting and living with 
them. Six months ago you came yoorself to the banks of the Rio Gila, where 
I was at the time, and you told me you had come to fetch me, and that I must 
follow you. 1 followed, for do I not belong to you, body and soul?” 

' ‘ Good, you still retain the same feeling.” 

“ Why should I have changed ? You are my only friend.” 

“ Thanks, then you are resolved to obey me in everything? ” 

“ W thout hesitation, I swear it.” 

“ Now listen to me in your turn : this man whom you have succoured so 
foolishly — forgive the word — lied from the first to the last word he told you. 
The story he told you is a tissue of falsehoods. It is not true that he had only 
arrived a few days before from Vera Cruz; it is not true that he is going to 


^ Discovery. 


37 


Mexico ; and, lastly, it is not true that he was attacked and plundered. This man 
I know. He has been at Mexico for the last eight months, he lives at Puebla, 
he was condemned to death by tnen who had a right to try him, and with whom 
he is perfectly well acquainted.” 

“ Oh, oh ! ” said the young man, “ this alters the case.” 

“This man, when he regained his senses,’ and was able to speak, implored 
your protection, did he not ? ” 

“ That is true. Master Oliver.” 

“ Good, and what did you answer him ?” 

“ You understand that it was very difficult for me to abandon the poor 
fellow.” 

“ But suppose he retovers — which between ourselves seems very doubtful- 
will you consider yourself entirely free from him ? ” 

“ Oh yes. Master Oliver, completely.” 

“ Well, the man you have succoured and on whom you lavished such devoted 
attentions is your deadly enemy.” 

“ This man my deadly enemy ? ” he exclaimed, with an astonishment mingled 
with doubt ; “ but I do not know him any more than he knows me.” 

“ You suppose so ; but be convinced that I am not deceived.” 

“ What is to be done ? ” 

“ Leave me to act. I went to the rancho this morning with the intention of 
telling you that one of your enemies was dead. You took care to make me a 
liar.” 

“ Then rc is your intention ” 

“ My intention is to order Lopez to watch over your patient. He will remain 
in the cavern, where he will be taken the greatest care of.” 

“ Oh, I trust entirely to you, Master Oliver ; but when he’s cured ?” 

“ We will let him go away in peace; but be at ease, we shall find him again.” 

“ Have you nothing more to say to me ? ” 

“ Yes, that I intend to take you with me for a few days.” 

“ Good ; I understand we are going to have a famous hunt.” 

“Yes, we are going to hunt,” the adventurer said, with an equivocal smile ; 
“but not at all in the way you suppose.” 

They proceeded toward the mound. The adventurer entered the vault, and 
the young man went up to the rancho. Loick and the two women were await- 
ing him on the platform, considerably perplexed by the long conversation he 
had held with Oliver; but Dominique was impenetrable — he had lived to<^ 
long in the desert to let the truth be drawn trom his heart when he though* 
proper to conceal it. 

At the end of about half an hour Oliver reappeared. Dominique *’oie and 
took leave of his family. 

“ You are taking him with you,” said Loick. 

“Yes,” Oliver replied, “ we are going into the Tlerra Caliente.” 

“Take care,” said Louise anxiously; “you know that Juarez’ guerillas are 
scouring the country.” 

“ Fear nothing, little sister,” the young man said, as he embraced her; “ we 
shall be prudent.” 

“ I should prefer your not leaving us, Dominique,” she replied, sadly. 

“Come, come,” the adventurer remarked gaily; “do not be alarmed, 1 will 
tiring him back safe and sound.” 

It appears that the occupants of the rancho had great confidence in Oliver’s 
Word, for on his assurance their anxiety became calmed, and they took leave of 
the t'^'O men in tolerably good spirits. The latter then lelt the rancho/ 


38 


The Rebel Chief. 


descended the mound, and found their horses, ready to be mounted, awaiting 
them, tied up to a liquidambir tree. 

“Are we really going to the hot lands ? ” Dominique asked. 

“ We are not going so far, or nearly so ; I am only taking you a few miles off 
to a hacienda, where I want you to make a new acquaintance.” 

“ I confess to you that I am nof very fond of the Mexicans.” 

“ The person to whom you will be introduced is not Mexican, but French.” 

“ That is not at all the sa.me thing ; but why do you talk in that mysterious 
way, are you not going to introduce me ? ” 

" No, it is another person whom you know, and for whom you feel some 
liking.” 

“ To whom are you alluding f ** 

“To Leo Carral.” 

“ In that case we are going to the hacienda ?” 

“ Not exactly, but near it. I have given the majordomo a rendezvous.** 


CHAPTER X. 

THE MEETING. 

Ever since Count de la Saulay’s arrival at the hacienda Dona Dolores had 
treated him with a degree of reserve which the marriage projects made by tho 
two families were far from justifying. 

But here the coldness of Dona Dolores toward him — a coldness which had 
never once thawed — the preference which after the last night’s scene she seemed 
to give to another person, all combined to deprive the interview she had given 
him of the slightest supposition of love. 

Singular contradiction of the human mind! The count, who felt for this 
marriage a repulsion more and more marked, whose formal intention it was to 
have as soon as possible, an explanation on this subject with Don Andres de la 
Cruz, and whose firm resolution it was to withdraw, and renounce the alliance 
so long prepared, and which displeased him the more because it was forced on 
him, revolted at the supposition of a renunciation on the part of Dona Dolores. 

He, Count Ludovic de la Saulay, young, handsome, rich, renowned for his 
wit and elegance, one of the most distinguished members of the jockey club, one 
of the gods of fashion, whose conquests occupied every mouth in Paris, had 
produced on a half-wild girl no other impression but that of repulsion. There 
was certainly something desperate about this. 

After taking a complacent glance at his person, a smile of haughty satisfac- 
tion lit up his face ; he found himself both physically and morally so im. 
measurably above his surroundings, that ne only felt a sort of merciful pity for 
the poor girl whom the bad education she had received prevented from appre- 
ciating the numberless advantajges which gave him a superiority over his rivals. 

While revolving these and many other thoughts, the count left his rooir.^- 


The Meeting. 


39 


crossed the courtyard, and proceeded to the apartments of Dona Dolores. He 
Remarked, though without attaching much importance to the fact, that several 
saddle horses were waiting in the court, held by peons. At the door of the 
apartments stood a young Indian girl, with pretty face and sparkling eyes, who 
greeted him with a smile and a profound curtsey, as she made him a sign to 
enter. 

Dona Dolores, half reclining on a hammock of aloe fibre, was amusing her- 
self with teasing a pretty parrot half the size of her hand, and was laughing 
heartily at the little creature’s cries of fury. 

'The count had never seen her so lovely. After bowing deeply to her, he 
stopped in the door, experiencing an admiration mingled with such great stupe- 
faction, that Dona Dolores, after looking at him for a moment, could not re- 
tain her seriousness, but burst out into a silvery peal of laughter. 

“ Forgive me, cousin,” she said to him, “ but you look so singular.’* 

“ Laugh, laugh, my fair cousin,” the young man replied, resolved to share 
this gaiety, which he was so far from expecting ; “ I am delighted to find you in 
such good humour.” 

“ Do not stay there, cousin,” she continued ; “ sit down near me in this 
butacca,” and with her pink finger she pointed to an arm-chair. 

“ Cousin,” said the young man, “ I have the honour of obeying the invitation 
which you deigned to send me.” 

“ Ah, that is true,” she answered ; “ I thank you for your kindness.” 

“ I could not display too great eagerness in obeying you, cousin, I have so 
rarely the happiness of seeing you.” 

“ Is that a reproach you are addressing to me, cousin ?” 

“ I in no way claim the right of offering you reproaches.” 

“Oh, oh, my dear cousin, I fancy if I were disposed to make trial of this 
noble devotion, I should expose myself to shame, and you would refuse me 
point blank.” 

“ Now we have it,” the young man thought, and added aloud, “ it is my 
sincere desire to please you in everything, cousin.” 

“ I am much inclined to take you at your word, Don Ludovic,” she said. 

“ Do so, cousin, and you will see, from my promptitude in obeying you, that 
1 am the most devoted of your slaves.” 

“ Cousin,” said the young lady, “ I have a service to ask of you.” 

“ Of me ? At last I shall be of some use to you.” 

“ But I fear, lest it may cause you great annoyance.” 

“ What matter, cousin, the annoyance I may experience ? ” 

“ Cousin, I thank you. I must take a rather long ride to-day, for reasons you 
will soon appreciate. I cannot and will not be accompanied by any of the in- 
habitants of the hacienda. Still, as the roads are not at this moment perfectly 
secure, and I dare not venture to traverse them alone, I want a person with me, 
in order to protect and defend me if necessary. Do you consent, cousii?? ” 

“ With delight ; but I would remark that I am a stranger to the country.” 

“ Do not trouble yourself about that, cousin, I am a native of the country, 
and have no fear of losing my way for fifty leagues round.” 

“ I thank you for the honour you deign tv> do me, and place myself com- 
pletely at your disposal.” 

“ It is for me to thank you, cousin, for your extreme kindness ; the horses 
are saddled. Go and warn your valet that he will have to accompany you, and 
fetch your weapons, that is an important point.” 

The count rose, bowed to the young lady, who responded by a gracious 
amiie, and left the room. 


40 


The Rebel Chief. 


** By Jove,” he muttered as soon as he was alone, “ this is delightful, and the 
duty she intends for me is most satisfactory. On my soul, she is a charming 
fay, and unless I take care I may end by falling in love with her, unless 1 have 
done so already,” he added, with a stifled sigh. 

He returned to his rooms, ordered Raimbaut to get ready to follow him, 
which the worthy valet did with the punctuality and silence that distinguished 
him. 

Dona Dolores, already mounted, was talking with her father while awaiting 
the count’s arrival. Don Andres de la Cruz was rubbing his hands with delight, 
the good understanding between the two young people charmed him. 

“ So you are going to take a ride ? ” he said to the count. 

“ The senorita has deigned to offer to accompany me,” Ludovic answered. 

“ She has acted admirably, for her choice could not be better.” 

“ A pleasant trip,” continued Don Andres, “ and mind you are careful whom 
you meet, Juarez’ cuadriilas are beginning to prowl about the neighbour- 
hood.” 

“ Do not be alarmed, papa,” Dona Dolores replied; ‘‘besides,” she added, 
with a charming smile aimed at the young man, “ under my cousin’s escort I 
fear nothing.” 

Don Andres gave them a last farewell nod, and they left the hacienda. The 
count and the young lady galloped side by side. Raimbaut, as a well-trained 
servant, followed a few paces in the rear. 

“ 1 will act as your guide, cousin,” the young lady said. 

“ I could not desire a better one,” Ludovic answered gallantly. 

Stay, cousin,” she resumed. “ I have a confession to make.” 

“ A confession, cousin ? ” 

“ Yes, I see you are such a good fellow, that I feel ashamed at having 
deceived you.” 

“ You deceived me, cousin ?” 

** Shamefully,” she said, with a laugh. “1 am leading you to a spot where 
we are expected.” 

“ Where you are expected, you mean ? ” 

“ No, because it is you they want especially to see.” 

“ I confess that I do not understand you ; I know no one.” 

“ Are you quite sure of that, my dear cousin ? ” she asked, with a mocking 
air. 

“ Well, I believe so at least.” 

“ Well, I have but very little to add, besides, in a few minutes we shall have 
arrived, and I do not wish to keep you in doubt any longer.” 

“ That is very kind of yiu. I am humbly waiting till you deign to explain.” 

“ I must do so, as you have such a bad memory. What, sir, you are but 
a foreigner, who have been but a little while in a strange land. In this country, 
so soon as you landed, you met one man who displayed some sympathy with 
you, and you have already forgotten him.” 

“ Crush me, cousin, I deserve all your reproaches. You are right, there is 
really one man in Mexico for whom I feel a sincere friendship.” 

“ And you no longer remember him, eh ? ” 

“ On the contrary, cousin ; and it would be my most eager desire to see him 
again.” 

“ And what is this person’s name ? ” 

“ He told me it was Oliver ; still, I should not like to affirm that it is really 
his name.” 

The young man gave a meaning smile. 


In the Plain, 


4X 


“ Would it be indiscreet to ask you why you entertain this unfavourable sup* 
position ? ” 

“ Not at all, cousin ; but Senor Oliver appeared to me a very mysterious 
gentleman.” 

“ He assumed a name,” she interrupted. “ Perhaps you are right, perhaps 
you are wrong ; I could not answer that question ; all I can tell you is that he is 
the person who expects you.” 

“ That is singular,” the young man muttered. 

Why so? He has doubtless an important communication to make; at 
least, so I hear.” --- 

“ Did he tell you so ? ” 

“ Not precisely ; but while conversing with me last night he displayed a 
desire to see you as soon as possible.” 

This confession was made by the young lady in such simple faith that the 
count was completely staggered. Dona Dolores did not notice his astonish- 
ment. 

“ Ah,” she said a moment after, “ look at those two men seated side by side 
in the shade of that clump of trees ; one of them is Oliver, the person who 
expects you.” 

“ Very good,” Ludovic answered, spurring his horse. 


'V 


CHAPTER XI. 

IN THE PLAIN. 

Oliver and Dominique, after leaving the rancho, rode for a long time side by 
side without exchanging a word. Dominique, or Domingo, according as he 
was called in French or Spanish, whose physical portrait we have sketched in a 
preceding chapter, was, morally, a strange mixture of good and bad instincts ; 
still, we are bound to add that the good nearly always gained the victory. The 
wandering life he had led for several years among the Indians of the prairie 
had developed in him, besides a great personal strength, an incredible force of 
will and energy of character, blended with a leonine courage and a degree of 
cleverness which might at times be taken for duplicity. Crafty and distrustful 
like a Comanche, he had transferred to civilised life all the practices of the 
wood-rangers, never letting himself be taken unawares by the most unforeseen 
events ; and, opposing an impassive face to the most scrutinising glances, he 
feigned a simplicity by which the cleverest persons were often deceived ; added 
to this, he generally displayed a rare frankness, unbounded generosity, exquisite 
sensibility of heart, and carried his devotion to those he loved to the extremest 
limits, without reflection or after-thought ; but, on the other hand, hewas impla- 
cable in his hatreds, and possessed a true Indian ferocity. 

Oliver had profoundly studied the extraordinary character of his protege^ 
hence he knew better than himself, perhaps, of what he was capable ; and he 


4a 


The Relet Chief, 


had frequently shuddered on probing the hidden depths of this strange organic 
sation which did not know itself. 

After a ride of some hours the travellers arrived about three leagues from the 
Hacienda del Arenal, on the skirt of a rather thick wood that bordered the last 
plantations of the hacienda. 

“ Let us stop here and eat,” Oliver said, as he dismounted ; “ this is our des- 
tination for the present.” 

“ I am quite willing,” Dominique answered ; “ this confounded sun falling 
vertically on my head since the morning is beginning, I Confess, to tire me.” 

“ In that case stand on no ceremony, comrade ; the spot is glorious for a 
rest.” 

The two men hobbled their horses, which they unbridled to let them browse 
at their ease, and after sitting down opposite each other under the protection 
of the dense foliage of the trees, they felt in their alforjas, which were well- 
stocked with provisions, and began eating with good appetite. 

“ Well, Dominique,” Oliver said, ‘‘ what do you think of the life I have made 
you lead for the last five months in this province ? ” 

“To tell you the truth,” the vaquero replied, “I consider it absurd and 
wearisome to the highest degree.” 

“ You are a true friend,” said Oliver, with a laugh, “ ever ready to act without 
observation or comment.” 

“ I flatter myself I am ; for is not friendship composed of self-denial ? ” 

“Yes ; and that is why it is so rareD met with in this world. But I would 
willingly restore you to liberty, my boy, but I repeat that I have need of you, 
perhaps for three months longer.” 

“ Three months ? that is very long,” 

“ Perhaps you will find the period very short,” he said, with a peculiar 
expression. 

“ That may be so, and I had better know something, so that I may fulfil your 
intentions properly.” 

“ Listen to me, then ; I shall be the more brief because, when the persons I 
am expecting arrive, I shall give you more detailed instructions. ’ 

“ Very good, go on.” 

“Two persons are going to join us here — a young man and a young lady; 
the latter is Dona Dolores de la Cruz, daughter of the owner of the Hacienda 
del Arenal ; she is sixteen years of age, and very beautiful ; she is a gentle, 
pure, and simple girl.” 

“ But that does not concern me ; I trouble myself slightly about squaws.” 

“ That is true, so I will not dwell on the point. Dona Dolores is betrothed 
to Don Ludovic, who will marry her immediately.” 

“ And who is Don Ludovic? Some Mexican who prances like a canon’s 
mule.” _ 

“ In that you are mistaken ; Don Ludovic is her cousin, Count Ludovic de la 
Saulay, belonging to the highest nobility in France.” 

“ Ah, ah 1 he is the Frenchman in question.” 

“Yes: he has come expressly from France to contract with his cousin this 
union, which has long been arranged between the two families. Count Ludovic 
is an excellent fellow, in whom I take the most sincere interest, and I wish you 
to attach yourself to him.” 

“ If he is as you say, all right ; before two days we shall be friends.” 

“ Thanks, Dominique, I expected no less from you.” 

“ Eh,” said the vaquero, “ look there, Oliver, some one is coming. I fancy, 

“Thay are Dona Dolores and Count Ludovic.” 


In tne Plain. 


4.3 


They rose to go and receive the young people, who, in truth, were coming up 
at full speed. 

“ Here we are at last,” the young lady said, as she stopped her hor^. 

“ I see you again then, my friend,” said the count ; “thanks for remembering 

me.” 

“ Did you suppose I had forgotten you ? ” 

“ My lord count,” the adventurer then said, “permit me first of all to intro- 
duce to you M. Dominique ; he is more than a brother, he is another self. I shall 
be pleased if you will transfer to him a small portion of the friendship you deign 
to testify to me.” 

“Sir,” the count replied, bowing gracefully to the vaquero, “I sincerely 
regret that I express myself so badly in Spanish.” 

“That is of no consequence, sir,” the vaquero replied in French; “I speak 
your language fluently enough.” 

“ Sir, you delight me ; this is a charming surprise ; pray accept my hand.” 

“ Most willingly, sir, and thank you ; we shall soon know each other better, 
and then you will reckon me, I hope, in the number of your friends.” 

After these words, the two young men warmly shook hands. 

“ Are you satisfied, my friend ? ” Dona Dolores asked. 

“You are a fairy, dear child,” Oliver replied with emotion. 

And he respectfully kissed the forehead which the young lady offered him, 
“Now,” he continued, changing his tone, “let us turn to business, for time 
presses ; but we are still one short.” 

“ Who is it ? ” the young lady asked. 

“ Leo Carral ; let me summon him ; ” and raising to his lips a silver whistle, 
he produced a shrill and long-sustained note. 

Almost immediately the galloping of a horse was heard in the distance, which 
rapidly drew nearer, and the majordomo soon appeared. 

“ Listen to me attentively,” Oliver resum.ed, addressing Dona Dolores ; “ the 
affair is serious. I am compelled to go away this very day : my absence may 
last for a long time, and hence it is impossible for me to watch over you. Un- 
fortunately I have a foreboding that an imminent danger threatens you ; of what 
nature it is, or when it will burst on you, I am unable to say; but it is certain.” 

“ But, my friend,” said the young lady, “you forget my father and my 
brother.” 

“ No, my child, I do not forget them ; on the contrary, I bear them in mind. 

■^Your father is an aged man. As for your brother, Don Melchior, you know, my 
dear girl, my opinion about him. You know that I am usually well informed. 
Now all of you carefully remember this: be most careful not to let Don Mel- 
chior or any other inhabitant of the hacienda suppose, either from your words 
or actions, that you foresee a misfortune ; but watch carefully.” 

“ We will watch,” the vaquero replied ; “but I have an objection to offer.” 

“What is it?” 

“ How shall I manage to get into the hacienda and remain there without 
arousing suspicions ? This appears to me rather difficult.” 

“No, you are mistaken ; no one at the hacienda knows you but Leo Carral, 
I think.” 

“ That is true.” 

“Well, you will go there as a Frenchman, a friend of the Count de la Saulay.” 

“ Permit me,” Ludovic observed, “ 1 have spoken several times to Don 
Andres about an intimate friend attached to the French Legation at Mexico, 
and whom I expect to visit me.” 

** Perfect, Dominique will pass for him ; what’s his name ?” 


44 


The Rebel Chief, 


“ Charles de Meriadec.” 

“Very good : while Dominique is at the hacienda, I will arrange that the man 
does not dome to disturb him." 

“ Hum, that is important.” 

“ Fear nothing, I will arrange it ; so that is settled ; and to-morrow Monsieur 
Charles de Meriadec will arrive at the hacienda.” 

“ He will be well received,” Ludovic replied with a smile. 

“ As for you, Leo Carral, I have no recommendations to give you.” 

“ No, no, my measures have been taken for a longtime past,” the majordomo 
replied. 

“ All is well, so now let us separate. I should have been a long way off.” 

“ Are you leaving us already, my friend ? ” Dona Dolores asked with emotion. 

“ I must, my child ; be of good cheer, and have confidence in God.” 

The adventurer pressed the count’s hand for the last time, kissed the young 
lady’s forehead, and leapt into the saddle. 

“ Let me see you again soon,” Dona Dolores said to him. 

“ To-morrow you will see your friend Meriadec,” Dominiq;ue said. 


CHAPTER XII. 

POLITICAL. 

Meanwhile, as we know, Zuloaga had revoked his abdication. General Mira- 
mon had loyally offered to convene the assembly of notables, and have himself 
legally proclaimed President of the Republic. 

The result did not disappoint the secret expectations of the general : he was 
elected President almost unanimously. The general, who knew how time 
pressed, took the oaths, and immediately entered on his duties. Although 
materially the defeat at Silao was almost nothing, still from a moral point of 
view the effect produced was immense. Miramon understood this : he actively 
employed himself in restoring a little order in the finances, creating resources, 
precarious, but sufficient for the urgent necessities of the moment in raising 
fresh troops. Unfortunately the president was constrained to abandon several 
important points in order to concentrate his forces round Mexico. Under these 
circumstances, wishing doubtless to satisfy public opinion and restore a little 
tranquillity to the capital, he consented to enter into negotiations with his rival, 
]uarez, which, if they did not lead to peace, might at any rate produce an 
armistice. Unluckily a fresh complication rendered all hope of an arrangement 
mpossible. 

General Marquez had been sent to the relief of Guadalafara, which town, it 
was supposed, continued successfully to resist the federal troops ; but all at onv'e, 
after the federals had carried off a conducta de plata belonging to English 
merchants, an armistice was concluded between the two belligerent corps — and 
General Castillo, commandant of Guadalafara, abandoned by the majority of 


Political. 


45 


his troops, found himself compelled to leave the town and take refuge on the 
Pacific : so that the federals, freed from this obstacle combined against Mar- 
quez, defeated him, and destroyed his corps, the only one that still kept the 
field. The fall of Miramon now could only be a question of time. 

After appealing to all classes of society, the general at len dh resolved to 
apply to the clergy, whom he had always supported and protected ; they replied 
to his appeal, raised a tithe on their lands, and resolved to carry to the mint 
their gold and silver ornaments. Unfortunately all these efforts were thrown 
away, the expenses increased in a ratio with the continually growing dangers of 
the situation, and ere long Miramon, after vainly employing all the expedients 
which his critical position suggested to him, found himself with an empty 
treasury, and the sorrowful conviction that it was useless to dream of refilling it. 

We will now resume our narrative in the early days of November, i8 — , that 
is to say, about six weeks after the period when we interrupted it. Night was 
advancing, shadows were already invading the plain, the oblique beams of the 
setting sun, gradually expelled from the valleys, were still clinging to the snowy 
peaks of the mountains of Anahuac, which they tinged with Vermillion hues : 
the breeze rustled through the foliage : vaqueros, mounted on horses as wild as 
themselves, were driving across the plain large herds which had wandered all 
day at liberty, but at night returned to the corral. In the distance could be 
heard tingling the mule bells of some belated arrieros, who were hurrying to 
reach the magnificent highway lined with enormous aloes, contemporaries of 
Moctecuzoma, which runs to Mexico. 

A traveller, mounted on a powerful horse and carefully wrapped up in the 
folds of a cloak which was pulled up to his eyes, was slowly following the capri- 
cious windings of a narrow track which, cutting across country, joined at about 
two leagues from the town the high road from Mexico to Puebla. He went on 
for about three quarters of an hour, and was not more than a league from the 
city when, happening to raise his head, he perceived he had reached a spot 
where the track parted and ran to the right and left ; he halted with evident 
hesitation, but a moment later took the right-hand track. The traveller, after 
going in this direction for about ten minutes appeared to know where he was, 
for he gave his horse a slight touch of the spur. Ere long he reached a pile of 
blackened ruins ; here the horseman halted, and after looking searchingly 
around him, evidently to make sure he was alone, dismounted, sat down com- 
fortably on a sod of grass, leant against a tree, threw back his cloak, and 
revealed the pale-worn features of the wounded man. 

Don Antonio de Caserbaz, for such was his name, only appeared the shadow 
of his former self. His whole life appeared concentrated in his eyes, which 
flashed with a sinister gleam. Scarce cured from his frightful wound, still very 
weak, and only enduring with extreme difficulty the fatigue of a long ride, he 
had, for all that, imposed silence on his sufferings to come thus at nightfall 
nearly three leagues from Mexico to a rendezvous. 

A few minutes elapsed, during which Don Antonio, with his arms crossed or 
his chest, and his eyes closed, reflected, and in all probability prepared himself 
for the interview he was about to ha.ye. All at once a sound of horses, mingled 
with the clank of sabres, announced that a rather large troop of horsemen was 
approaching. He drew himself up, looked nervously in the direction whence 
the noise came, and rose, doubtless to receive his visitors. They were fifty in 
number. They halted about fifteen paces from the ruins, but remained in the 
saddle. Only one of them dismounced, threw his bridle to a horseman, and 
wal!<ed up. 

“ Who are you?*^^’ Don Antonio asked, in a voice. 


46 


The Rebel Chief, 


The man you are expecting,” the other replied : “ Colonel Don Filipe Neri 
Irzabel.” 

“ Yes ; I recognise you. Approach.” 

“ It is very lucky. Well, senor Don Antonio,” the colonel replied, offering 
his hand, “ and your health ? ” 

“ Bad,” said Don Antonio, falling back without touching the hand that the 
guerillero offered him. 

The latter di^ not notice this movement, or attached no importance to it. 

You have come with a large escort,” Don Antonio continued. 

“ Carai ! Do you fancy, my dear sir, that I have any wish to fall into the 
hands of Miramon’s scouts ? But I fancy we had better attend to business 
without delay.” 

“ I wish for nothing better.” 

“ The general thanks you for the last information you sent him — it was 
scrupulously exact ; hence he has sworn to reward you as you deserve.” 

“ Have you the paper ? ” asked Don Antonio, with some eagerness. 

“ Everything is here, senor, so set your mind at rest,” the colonel continued, 
with a coarse laugh. “ Where could honesty be found at the present day, 
except among people of our stamp ? The whole is signed, ‘ Ortega, General- 
in-Chief of the Federal Army,’ and countersigned, ‘ Juarez, President of the 
Republic.’ Are you satisfied ? ” 

“ I will answer you, senor, when I have seen the paper.” 

“ Nothing easier,” the guerillero said, drawing forth a large envelope and 
presenting it to Don Antonio. 

The latter seized it with a movement of joy, and broke the seal with a febrile 
hand ; then rubbing a lucifer match on a stone, he lit a rolled-up taper which 
he drew from his pocket. 

As he read, a lively satisfaction was legible on his face. At length he put 
out the taper, folded up the paper, which he carefully secured in his pocket- 
book, and then addressed the colonel. 

“ Senor, you will thank General Ortega. He has behaved like a perfect 
Caballero.” 

“ I will not fail, senor,” the guerillero answered, “ especially if you have any 
information to add to that which you have already given us.” 

“ I certainly have, and of a very important nature.” 

Ah ! ah ! ” said the other, rubbing his hands ; “ pray let me have it ! ” 

“ Miramon is at the last gasp. He wants money, and cannot possibly obtain 
any. The troops, nearly all recruits, badly armed, and worse clothed, liave not 
been paid for two months, and are murmuring.” 

“ Very good ! Poor dear Miramon ! He is in a bad way.” 

“ The worse for him is that the clergy, who promised at the outset to come 
to his assistance, have now refused their help.” 

“ But,” asked the gueriliero, “ how is it that you are so well informed ? ” 

“ Do you not know that I am attache to the Spanish Embassy ? ” 

“ That is true — I forgot it ; pray excuse me ! What more do you know ? ” 

** The ranks of the partisans of the president are daily growing thinner ; his 
old friends are abandoning him. Hence, in order to raise himself in public 
opinion, he has resolved to attempt a sortie and attack General Bercozabal’s 
division.” 

“ Thanks ! We will be on our guard. Is that all ? ” 

“ Not yet. Reduced, as I told you, to the last extremity, and wishing to 
procure money — no matter by what means — Miramon has resolved to imitate 
the robbery of the conducta of ‘ Laguna Seca,’ effected by your party.” 


Political, 


- 5 . 


‘^Tknow!” the color^l interrupted, rubbing his hands. ** It was I who 
carried out that negociationr 

Miramon has therefore resolved,” Don Antonio continued, to carry off the 
money of the Convention, which is at this moment at the British Legation.” 

“ That is a superb idea ! Those fiends of heretics will be furious ! ” 

“ I am aware of it, colonel ; and hence the idea was suggested through my 
influence.” 

*' Bat the amount cannot be lai^e,” the guerillero said. 

“ Six hundred and sixtv thousand piastres” (;^i 32 ,ooo). 

Carai ! ” exclaimed the guerillero, with conviction. “ I lay down my arms 
before him ; he is stronger than I. The affair of the Laguna Seca was nothing 
in comparison. But with this sum he will be in a condition to recommence the 
war 1 ” 

“ We have arranged that, and the money will be spent in a few days,” Don 
Antonio remarked. 

“ May Heaven grant it ! ” 

“ Such, for the present, is all the information it is possible for me to give 
you, but I hope in a few days to give you some of a more serious nature.” 
“Here?” 

“ Here, at the same hour, and by mean.®’ of the same signal.” 

“ That is settled. Ah I the general will be highly delighted to learn all 
this.” 

“ Now let us come to our second matter — that which concerns us two alone. 
What have you done since I saw you last ? ” 

“ Not much ; I have not the means to enter into the researches,” 

“ And yet the reward is a fine one.” 

“ I do not say it is not,” the guerillero replied, absently. 

“ Do you doubt my word ? ” said Don Antonio, haughtily. 

“ Business is business, hang it all ! and must be treated on the square,** 

“ That is my opinion, too. Go on.” 

“ Well, then, you offered me fifty thousand piastres to ” 

“ I know what for, so pass over it.” 

“ I am quite agreeable. ' Now, fifty thousand piastres form a considerable 
sum.” 

“ I have given you my word ; is it not sufficient ?” 

“ Not quite. I believe you to be very rich, as you say you are, and as you 
offer me fifty thousand piastres ; but what proof have I that when the moment 
arrives you will pay me ? ” 

Don Antonio, while the guerillero was laying down the matter so distinctly, 
suffered from a dull wrath, which was twenty times on the point of bursting 
forth. 

“ Well, then, what do you desire ?■** he asked him, in a choking voice. 

“ Nothing, for the present, senor ; but as soon as we enter Mexico you will 
take me to a banker I know j he will be responsible for the sum. Does that 
suit you ? ” 

“ I can’t help myself. But till then ?” 

“ We have more pressing matters to attend to. For the present, permit m« 
to take leave of you, my dear sir.” 

•‘ You are at liberty to retire, senor,” Don Antonio replied, drily, 

“ I kiss your hands, my dear sir, and trust 1 shall see you again shortly,** 

“ Farewell ! ” 

Don Felipe bowed cavalierly to the Spaniard, and turned on his heels* 

As for Don Antonio, he went back pensively and slowly to Mexico, 


4 « 


The Rebel Chief. 


'** Oh 1 ” he muttered, as he pulled up before the house he occupied in the 
Calle de Tacuba ; “ in spite of heaven and hell I will succeed ! ” 

What was the meaning of these sinister words which seemed to contain tho 
result of his long meditation P 


CHAPTER Xin. 

THE CONVENTION BONDS. 

Day was just beginning to break. Mexico was still sleeping ; its silent streets 
were only disturbed at long intervals by the hurried footfalls of a few Indians 
arriving from the neighbouring pueblos with fruit and vegetables. Half-past 
four struck from the Sagrario ; at this moment a horseman emerged from the 
Calle de Tacuba, crossed the Plaza Mayor at a sharp trot, and pulled up right 
in front of the gates of the palace of the presidency, which were guarded by 
two sentries. 

The stranger at once demanded admittance in a haughty manner. 

The tone employed appeared to make a powerful impression on the soldiers. 
After consulting together for a moment in a whisper, the} resolved to satisfy 
him by striking the door with the butts of their muskets. Two or three 
minutes later this door was opened, and offered a passage to a sergeant. After 
enquiring of the sentries the reason of their summons, he bowed politely to the 
stranger, begged him to wait a moment, and went in, leaving the door open 
behind him, but immediately reappeared, preceding a captain in full dress 
uniform. The horseman bowed to the captain, and repeated the request which 
he had previously made to the sentries. 

“ I am very sorry to refuse you, senor,” the officer replied, “ but my orders 
prohibit me from letting any one into the palace before eight o’clock.” 

“ Pardon me, captain,” the horseman continued ; “ one word more, if you 
please.” 

Say it, senor.” 

“ It is unnecessary for any one but yourself to hear it.” 

“ Nothing is easier, senor,” the officer replied, as he came nearer. 

The horseman leant down, and murmured in a low voice a few words, which 
the officer listened to with marks of the most profound surprise. 

“ Are you satisfied now, captain ? ” 

“ Perfectly, senor ; ” and turning to the sergeant, who was standing a few 
yards off, he said, “ Open the gate.” 

“It is unnecessary,” said the stranger; “with your permission i will dis* 
mount.” 

“ As you please, senor.” 

“ Now, captain,” the stranger continued, “ if you wish to set the seal on yoi’.r 
kindnesn by leading me yourself to the person who expects me, I am at j'our 
<»rders.” 


The Convention Bonds. 


:o 


** I am at yours, senor,” the officer replied. 

Thejr then entered the palace, leaving behind them the sergeant and the two 
sentries in a state of the utmost surprise. Preceded by the captain, the stranger 
passed through several rooms, which, in spite of the early hour, were already 
crowded. A great agitation prevailed among the groups, among which were 
officers, clergymen, and merchants ; they were conversing with considerable 
animation, but in a low voice ; the general expression of faces was gloomy and 
anxious. The two men at length reached the door of a study guarded by two 
sentries ; an usher, with a silver chain round his neck, was slowly walking up 
and down. 

“ You have arrived, senor,” said the captain. 

“ I have now only to take my leave of you, senor, and offer you my thanks 
for your politeness,” the stranger answered. 

They bowed, and the captain returned to his post. 

“ His excellency cannot receive at this moment ; there was an extraordinary 
council this night, and his excellency has given orders that he is to be lert 
alone,” said the usher. 

“ His excellency will make an exception in my favour,” the stranger gently 
remarked. 

“ I doubt it, senor ; the order is general, and I dare not break it.” 

“ I understand, senor,” the stranger said, “ how sacred the order you have 
received must be to you, hence I have no intention of urging you to disobey it ; 
still, as the subject that brings me here is of the most serious nature, let me 
implore you to do me a service.” 

“ I will do anything that is compatible with the duties of my office.” 

“ I thank you, senor ; however, I assure you, and you will soon receive proof 
of my assertion, that, far from reprimanding you, his excellency the president 
will feel obliged.” 

“ I had the honour of remarking to you, senor ” 

Let me explain what I want of you,” the stranger interrupted. 

That is fair. Speak, senor.” 

“ I will write one word on a piece of paper, and this paper you will place 
before his excellency’s eyes without saying a word ; if his excellency says 
nothing to you I will withdraw.” 

“ That is enough,” the usher replied, with a meaning smile. 

“ Do you see any difficulty in doing so ? ” 

“ Is it very necessary, then, that you should see his excellency this morning ? ” 
the usher continued, without answering the question asked him. 

“ Senor don Livio,” the stranger answered, in a grave voice, “ for though you 
do not know me, I know you, I am aware of your devotion to General Miramon. 
Well, on my honour and faith as a Christian, I swear to you that it is most 
urgent for him that I should see him without delay.” 

“That is sufficient, senor,” the usher replied ; “ there are paper, pen, and ink 
on that table ; please to write.” 

The stranger thanked him, took up a pen and wrote in large letters, in the 
middle of a sheet, this one word — 

ADOLPHO 

followed by three dots arranged in a triangle, and then handed it to the usher. 

“ There,” he said to him. 

“ What 1 ” exclaimed the usher, “ you are ” 

“Silence,” the stranger said, laying his finger on his lips. 

At this moment the door was opened, and a powerful voice shouted from the 
Interior of the cabinet, “Come in, come in.” 


Tlie stranger entered. 

“ Come,” the president continued, come, my dear Don Adolfo, it is Heaven 
that sends you,” and he advanced towards him, holding out his hand. 

Don Adolfo respectfully pressed the president’s hand, and sat down in an 
5rm-chair by his side. At the moment when we bring him on the stage. Pre- 
sident Miramon, the general whose name was in every mouth, and who was 
justly considered the first warrior of Mexico, as he was her best administrator, 
was quite a young man, he was scarce six-and-twenty years of age. He was 
tall and elegantly formed, his manner was full of ease ; his features, delicate, 
distinguished, and full of cleverness, displayed boldness and intelligence; his 
wide forehead was already wrinkled by the effect of thought, his well-opened 
olack eyes had a straight and clear glance, whose depth at times disturbed 
Jiose upon whom he fixed them ; his rather pale face and eyes, bordered by a 
wide brown circle, evidenced a long want of sleep. 

“ Ah,” he said gladly, “ my good genius has returned.” 

Don Adolfo shook his head mournfully. 

“ What is the meaning of that movement, my friend ? ” the president con- 
tinued. 

“ This means, general, that I fear it is too late.” 

“ Too late ! Do you think me incapable of taking a startling revenge ? ” 

“ I think you capable of every great and noble action, general,” he replied ; 
•' unfortunately treachery surrounds you on all sides.” 

“ That is only too true,” the general said, bitterly ; “ the clergy and the chief 
merchants, whose protector I constituted myself, selfishly allow me to exhaust 
mv last resources in protecting them, without deigning to come to my assis- 
tance.” 

“ Yes, that is true, general ; but before we go further,” Don Adolfo continued, 

permit me, general, to gi ve you an account of my own operations.” 

“ Oh, they have been successful, I feel convinced,” the general replied, with a 
smile. 

“ I hope so. Do you authorise me to make my report ? ” 

“ Do so, do so, my friend ; I long to hear what you have accomplished.” 

“ Oh, pardon, general,” Don Adolfo said quickly; “ I am only an adventurer, 
and my devotion is entirely personal to yourself.” 

“ Good, I understand ; let me hear this report.” 

“ In the first place, I succeeded in taking from General Degollado the 
remains of the conducta which he carried off at the Laguna Seca.” 

“ Good, that is honourable warfare. Well, how much is it? ” 

“ Two hundred and sixty thousand piastres.” 

“ Hum ! a very decent amount.” 

“ Is it not ? I next surprised that bandit Cuellar, after that his worthy 
partner Carvajal, and lastly their friend Felipe Irzabal had a row with me.” 

“ But the total from these various encounters, my friend ? ” 

“ Nine hundred and odd thousand piastres ; the guerilleros of the worthy 
Juarez are excellent at shearing, for they have their arms free.” 

“ Why, this is magnificent.” 

“ I do what I can, general.” 

** Hang it all ! if all my friends were to beat up the country with such excel- 
lent results, I should soon be rich. Unfortunately it is not the case ; but this 
Sum, added to what I have been able to procure in another quarter, makes a 
very decent amount.” 

' Vv'liat other sum are you alluding to, general ? You have found mo'acy, 
then?” 


I he Convention Bonds. 




‘‘Yes,’’ he replied, with some hesitation; “a friend of mine, attache to the 
Spanish embassy, suggested the means to me.” 

Don Adolfo bounded as if he had been stung by a viper, 

“ Calm yourself, my friend,” the general said quickly ; “ I know that you are 
an enemy of the duke ; still, since his arrival in Mexico, he has rendered me 
great services, as you cannot deny.” 

The adventurer was pale and gloomy, and made no reply. 

“The duke,” the general continued, “after the defeat of Silao, when eve^- 
thing failed me at the same moment, succeeded in inducing Spain to recognise 
my government, which was very useful to me.” 

“ Yes, yes, 1 allow it, general. Oh, Heaven ; what I was told is true, then ! " 

“ And what were you told ? ” 

“ That, being reduced to the last extremity through the obstinate refusal of 
the clergy and merchants to assist you, you had formed a terrible resolution.” 

“ It is true,” the general said, hanging his head. 

“ But perhaps it is not too late yet. I bring you money, the situation is 
changed.” 

“ Listen,” the general said, checking him by a look. The door had just been 
opened. 

“ Did I not forbid you disturbing me ?” the president said to the usher, 

“ General Marquez, excellency,” the usher answered impassively. 

“ Let him come in,” said the president, sharply. 

“ Well ? ” the president asked General Marquez. 

“ It is done,” the general replied laconically ; “ the money is paid Into the 
treasury ? ” 

“How did it come off? ’’the president continued, with an imperceptible 
tremor in his voice. 

I received your excellency’s orders to proceed with a respectable force to the 
legation of her British majesty, and request of the English representative the 
immediate surrender of the funds destined to pay the bondholders of the English 
debt, while observing to the representative that the sum was at this moment 
indispensable to your excellency, in order to place the city in a posture of 
defence ; moreover, I pledged your excellency’s word for the restitution of the 
sum. To all my observations the English representative restricted himself to 
replying that the money did not belong to him, upon which I ordered my sol- 
diers to break the official seals, and I removed all the money I found. I thus 
carried off one million four hundred thousand piastres (;^ 240 ,ooo), which were 
immediately transported to the palace by my orders.” 

After this succinct narration General Marquez bowed. 

“ And what did the English representative do then ? ” the president asked. 

“ After protesting he hauled down his flag, and, followed by the whole lega- 
tion staff, left the city, declaring that he broke off all relations with your excel- 
lency’s government.” 

“ Very well, general, I thank you ; I shall have the honour of conversing 
with you more fully in a moment.” 

“You see, my friend,” the general remarked, as the other retired, “it is now 
too late to restore the money.” 

“ General, you are at the bottom of an abyss ; your rupture with England is 
the greatest misfortune which can happen. You must conquer or die.” 

“I will conquer,” the general exclaimed, hotly. 

“ May heaven grant it ! ” the adventurer replied, rising, “ for victory alone 
can absolve you.” 

“ Are you leaving me already ? ” the president asked him. 


The Rebel Chief, 


55 


'*! must, excellency; have I not to bring the money here, which T at least 
took from your enemies ?” 

Miramon hung his head sadly. 

'• Fardon me, general, I was wrong, I should not have spoken thus,*^ 

•" ICove you nothing to ask of me ? ” 

Yes, a blank signature.” 

The general at once gave it to him 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE HOUSE IN THE SUBURBS. 

At the palace gate Don Adolfo found his horse held by a soldier ; he at once 
leapt into the saddle, and after throwing a coin to the assistent, he again 
crossed the Plaza Mayor, and entered the Calle de Tacuba. 

It was about nine in the morning ; the streets were crowded with pedes- 
trians, horsemen, carriages, and carts, proceeding in all directions. 

Don Adolfo, while rapidly advancing through the streets, did not fail to 
observe what was going on around him ; the ill-disguised restlessness, the grow- 
ing anxiety of the population did not escape him. 

On entering the suburbs, Don Adolfo found the population calmer ; the news 
had not spread there to any great extent, and those who knew it appeared to 
trouble themselves very slightly about it, or perhaps considered it perfectly 
simple. Don Adolfo perfectly understood this distinction ; the inhabitants of 
the faubourg, mostly poor people belonging to the lowest class of the popula- 
tion) were indifferent to an act which could not affect them. On coming near 
the Gate of Helen, he at length stopped before an isolated house of modest 
appearance, whose door was carefully closed. At the sound of his horse’s 
hoofs a window was half opened, a cry of delight was raised in the interior of 
the house, and a moment later the gate was thrown wide open. Don Adolfo 
entered, crossed the saguan, reached the patio, where he dismounted, and 
fastened his horse to a ring fixed in the wall. 

“ Why that trouble, Don Jacine? ” a lady said; “do you intend to leave us 
so quickly ? ” 

“ Perhaps so, sister,” Don Adolfo answered ; “ I can only remain a very 
little time.” 

“ Very good ; in the doubt you can let Jose lead your horse to the corral.” 

“ Do as you please, sister.” 

“ You hear, Jose,” the lady said; “lead Myreno to the corral. Come 
brother,” she added. 

The latter made no objection, and both entered the house. The chamber 
they went into was a dining-room, plainly furnished, but with that taste and 
neatness which denote assiduous attention. 

“ You will breakfast with us, I suppose, brother ? ” 


The House in the Suburbs, 


53 


‘*With pleasure ; but, before all, sister, tell me all about my niece.” 

** She will be here in an instant ; as for her cousin, he is absent, do you know 
tP” 

“ I fancied he had returned.” 

“ Not yet, and we were all very anxious about him, as we are about you, for 
he leads a most mysterious life.” 

“ Patience, Maria, patience ! do you not know,” he said, “ that we are toiling 
for you and your daughter ? Some day, ere long, I hope, all will be cleared 
up.” 

“Heaven grant it, Don Jacine ; but we tremble every moment lest you or 
Don Estevan may have fallen into the hands of Cuellar, Carvajal, or El Rayo, 
those bandits about whom frightful stories are daily told us.” 

“ Reassure yourself, sister, Cuella, Carvajal, and even El Rayo,” he replied, 
with a smile, “are not such terrible people. Before a month, I repeat, sister, 
all mystery shall ceace, and justice be done.” 

“ Justice ! ” Dona Maria said, “ will justice restore me my son ? ” 

“Sister,” he replied, “ why doubt the power of Heaven ?” 

“ Alas 1 do you know what it is to say to a mother : Hope ? ” 

“ Maria, do I need to repeat to you that you 'and your sister are the two sole 
ties that attach me to life? Do you suppose that you would see me so calm 
and resolute if I did not feel the certainty of being on the point of attaining 
that object which I have pursued for so many years ? Have you no further 
confidence in me ? ” 

“Yes, yes, brother, I have faith in you,” she exclaimed, as she sank in his 
arms ; “ and that is why I incessantly tremble, even when you tell me to hope, 
and I fear lest you may succumb in this mad struggle sustained solely on my 
behalf.” 

“ And for the honour of our name, sister. But enough of this, here is my 
niece ; of all this conversation remember but one word, which I repeat to you— 
hope!” 

“ Oh ! oh ! thanks, brother,” she said, embracing him for the last time. 

“ Ah, my uncle, my dear uncle,” exclaimed a young lady eagerly approaching 
him and offering him her cheek, which he kissed several times; “at last you 
have arrived, and are most welcome.” 

“ What is the matter. Carmen, my child ? ” he asked, “ your eyes are red.” 

“ It is nothing, uncle ; the folly of a nervous and anxious woman, that is all; 
have you not brought Don Estevan back with you ? ” 

“ No,” he replied lightly, “he will not return for some days.” 

“ Have you seen him ? ” 

“ Yes, only two days ago. I am slightly the cause of the delay, as I insisted 
on his not yet returning. I am literally dying of hunger,” he said, to turn thiffc 
conversation. 

“ Yes, directly,” and she rang a bell. 

They then sat down to table and began their meal. 

In spite of the indifference he affected, Don Jacine, the adventurer, was evi- 
dently restless and anxious. At times he held his fork in the air, forgetting to 
carry it to his mouth, and apparently listening to sounds percept ible to himself 
alone ; at other times he sank into so profound a reverie that his sister or niece 
was forced to recall him to himself by giving him a gentle tap. 

“ Really, there is something the matter with you, brother,” Dona Maria could 
not refrain from saying to him. 

“ Uncle, you are concealing something from us.” 

You are mistaken. Carmen ; I am not concealing anything from you, of 9 


S4 


The Rebel Chief, 


personal nature at least ) but at this moment such an agitation prevails in tho 
city, that I confess to you plainly I fear a catastrophe.’' 

“ Can it be so near at hand ? ” 

“ Oh ! I do not think so ; still, there mcy be meetings, disturbances, or 
things of that sort. Do not leave the house to-day.” 

“ Oh, not to-day, or to-morrow, brother,” Dona Maria eagerly answered ^ 
for a long time past we have only gone out to go to mass.” 

Not even to attend mass for some time hence, sister, I should advise you.” 

“Are you going to remain with us, uncle? ” 

“ I should do so with pleasure, my dear child ; but unfortunately I dare not 
promise.” 

“ But, uncle, what business of so important a nature have you ? ” 

“ Silence, curious one ; give me a light for my cigarette.” 

“Yes,” she went on, “ always your old tactics to change the conversation.” 

“By the bye,” Don Jacine laughed, “have you seen any one from the 
rancho ? ” 

“ Yes, a fortnight ago Loick came with his wife Therese.” 

“ Did he say anything about the arenal ? ” 

“ Yes, uncle, I remember, these were the exact words : ‘ Senorita, when you 
see your uncle, be kind enough to inform him that the wounded man whom he 
placed in the vault in Lopez’ charge, took advantage of the absence of the 
latter to escape.” 

“ Malediction ! ” Don Jacine exclaimed, furiously, “ why did not that ass of a 
Dominique let him die like a wild beast ? I suspected it would end thus.” 

But noticing the surprise depicted on the faces of the two ladies, he broke off, 
and remarked, “ Is that all ?” 

“Yes, uncle ; but he recommended me carefully not to forget to warn you.” 

“ Now,” he added, rising from the table, “ I am obliged to leave you.” 

“ Already 1 ” the two ladies exclaimed, hurriedly leaping from their seats. 

“ I must. Unless some unforeseen event happen, I must be at a meeting to- 
night, a very long distance from here ; but I will take care to send Don Estevan 
in my place.” 

“ That will not be the same thing.” 

“ I thank you. Ah, by the way, before we separate, a word about business 
matters. The money I gave you the last time I saw you must be nearly 
exhausted, I suppose ? ” 

“ Oh, we do not spend much, brother, we live most economically.” 

“ All the better, sister, it is always preferable to have too much than too 
little ; hence, as I am tolerably well off at this moment, I have put aside for 
you sixty ounces, of which I will request you to relieve me.” 

“ That is too much, brother; what would you have us do with so large a 
sum ? ” 

“ Whatever you like, sister, that does not concern me. Come, take it.” 

“ Since you insist.” 

“ By the bye, you may possibly find forty ounces over the amount I specified. 
Use them to dress yourself and Carmen.” 

“ Uncle,” the young lady exclaimed, “ I am sure that you are depriving your- 
self.” 

“That is not your business, senorita ; I wish to see you looking nice, that is 
my whim. Come, kiss me both, and let me be off.” 

The two ladies followed him into the patio, where they helped him to saddle 
Moreno. At the moment when Don Jacine was giving the old servant orders 
to open the gate, the hasty galloping of a horse was audible outside. 


Don Melchior* 


55 


*^0h, oh,” said Don Jacine, “what is happening ?” and he went boldly under 
'jfte saguan. 

“ Uncle, brother,” the two ladies screamed, attempting to arrest him. 

“ Let me alone,” he said ; “ we must know what this means. Who is there P ” 
he shouted. 

“ A friend,” was the reply. 

“ It is Loick’s voice,” the adventurer said, and opened the gate. 

The ranchero came in. “Heaven be praised!” he exclaimed on noticing 
Don Jacine, “ for allowing me to meet you here.” 

“ What has happened ? ” the adventurer quietly asked. 

“ A great misfortune,” he answered ; “ the Hacienda del Arenal has been 
captured by Cuellar’s band.” 

“ Demonios ! ” the adventurer shouted, “ when did this happen ? ” 

** Three days ago.” 

The adventurer hurriedly dragged him into the interior of the house. 

Are you hungry ? are you thirsty ? ” he asked him. 

“ For three days I have neither eaten nor drank, I was so anxious to get 
here.’' 

“ Rest yourself and eat, and then you will tell me what has happened,” 


CHAPTER XV, 

DON MELCHIOR. 

We will go back to the precise moment when Oliver — for the reader has of 
course recognised him in Don Jacine — parted from Dona Dolores and the 
count. Dona Dolores and the persons who accompanied her did not reach 
the hacienda till a few minutes before sunset. Don Andres, alarmed by this 
lengthened ride, received them with marks of the most lively joy. 

“ Do not remain any longer out of doors, count,” he said to Ludovic, with a 
thoroughly paternal anxiety. “ I can understand all the pleasure you of course 
feel in galloping by the side of Dolores ; but you do not know this country, and 
may lose your way.” 

“ I believe your fears are exaggerated, sir ; we have had a delightful ride.” 

While conversing, they proceeded to the dining-hall, where dinner was served 
up. The meal was silent, as usual, save that the ice seemed to be broken 
between the young lady and young man ; and they now really talked together ! 

Don Melchior was gloomy and restrained, as usual, and ate without saying a 
word j only now and then, evidently astonished at the good understanding that 
seemed to prevail between his sister and the French gentleman, he turned his 
head towards them, giving them glances of a singular expression. Don Andres 
%vas radiant. In his joy he spoke loudly, addressed everybody, and ate and 
drank heartily. When they rose from table, Ludovic checked the old gentle* 
aian as they were taking leave. 


The Rebel Chief. 


56 


Pardon me,” he said ; “ but I should like a word with you.*^ 

“ I am at your orders,” Don Andres replied. 

“ Good heavens ! I do not know how to explain it to you, sir, I am afraid ! 
have acted rather lightly.” 

“ You, count ! ” Don Andres remarked, with a smile; “you will permit me 
not to believe it.” 

“ I thank you for your good opinion, still I must make you my judge.” 

In that case, be kind enough to explain yourself.” 

“ This is the matter in t wo words, sir. Thinking that I was going straight 
to Mexico, for I was ignorant of your presence here ” 

“ Quite true ; go on.” 

“ Well, I wrote to an intimate friend of mine, an attache of the French 
Legation, to inform him, first, of my arrival, and in the next place to beg him 
to take the trouble of find.ng me rooms. Now this friend, whose name is Baron 
Charles de Meriadec, and who belongs to a very old French family, kindly 
assented to my request. While this was going on, I learned you were living at 
this hacienda, and you were kind enough to offer me your hospitality. I 
immediately wrote to the baron to stop the affair, because I should doubtless 
remain a considerable period with you.” 

“ By accepting my hospitality, count, you gave me a proof of friendship and 
confidence, for which I am extremely grateful.” 

“I believed that all was settled with my friend, sir, when, this morning, I 
received a note from him, in which he tells me that he has obtained leave, 
and intends to spend his holiday with me.” 

“ Ah I caramba I ” Don Andres exclaimed, joyously ; “ the idea is delight* 
ful I ” 

“ Then you do not consider him rather unceremonious ? ” 

“ What do you mean, count ? ” Don Andres said ; “ are you not almost my 
son-in-law ? ” 

“ But I am not so yet, sir,” 

“ It will not be long first, thank heaven ; hence, you are at home here, and at 
liberty to receive your friends.” 

“ Even if they were a thousand,” Don Melchior said, with a sardonic smile. 

The count pretended to believe the young man’s kindly intention. 

“ I thank you, sir, for joining your father in this matter ; for it is a proof of 
the good-will you are kind enough to display towards me.” 

Don Melchior understood the sarcasm hidden under these words. He bowed 
stiffly. 

“ And when does the Baron de Meriadec arrive ? ” Don Andres continued, 

“ Well, I must confess that he will arrive to-morrow morning.” 

“ All the better. Is he a young man ? ” 

“ About my own age. But I must inform you that he speaks Spanish very 
badly.” 

“ He will find persons here to whom he can talk French. I will give orders 
to prepare rooms for him this very night.” 

“ Pardon me, sir, but I should be truly sorry to cause you any derangement.” 

“ Oh, do not trouble yourself about that. There is no lack of room.” 

“ I know your splendid hospitality, but I think it would be better to place the 
baron near me, for my servants could wait on him.” 

“ But that will bore you horribly.” 

“ Not at all : on the contary, I have more rooms than I want ; he will take 

one.” 

“ Do you press it, count? ” 


Don Melchior* 


57 


** I am in your house, sir, and hence cannot press anything." 

Since that is the case, count, it shall be done according to your wish.” 

Lutlovic hereupon took leave of Don Andres, and retired to his apartments; 
but almost immediately after him came peons loaded with furniture, who in a 
few minutes converted his drawing-room into a comfortable bedroom.. 

The count in his heart felt some anxiety as to the way in which the vaqtiero 
would wear his European dress, so tight and warm, and for that very reason so 
difficult to wear with ease : but he was almost immediately reassured at the 
sight of the handsome, proud young man who advanced, managing his horse 
gracefully, and having over his whole person an incontestible stamp of distinc- 
tion. For a moment he doubted whether this elegant cavalier was the same 
man he had seen on the previous day. 

The two young men greeted each other with marks of the most lively friend- 
ship, and then the count introduced his friend to Don Andres. 

The haciendero, delighted with the good looks and appearance of the young 
man, gave him a most cordial greeting, and then the count and the baron 
retired, followed by the arriero, who was no other than Loick the ranchero. 

When the two young men were alone, they placed Raimbaut on sentry in the 
outer room, to prevent a surprise : and withdrawing into the count’s bed- 
chamber, they began a long and earnest conversation, during which Ludovic 
gave the baron a species of biography of the persons with whom he was going 
to live for some time ; he dwelt more especially on Don Melchior, whom he 
urged him to distrust, and recommended him not to forget that he merely 
understood a few words of Spanish. 

“ I have lived a long time with the red -skins,” the young man answered, 
“ and have profited by the lessons I received of them.” 

“ I confess that I am surprised already ; you have completely deceived 
me.” 

“ You flatter me ; I will always try to merit your approbation.” 

“ By the way, my dear Charles,” the count continued, with a smile, “ we are 
old friends, college chums." 

“ Of course, we knew each other when children,” the other replied, in the 
same key. 

Very well, then, do not forget.” 

A portion of the day was thus spent without further incident than the intro- 
duction of Baron Charles de Meriadec by his friend. Count Louis de Saulnay, 
to Dona Dolores and her brother, Don Melchior de la Cruz. 

Dona Dolores returned a graceful and encouraging smile. Don Melchior 
contented himself with a silent bow. 

“ Hum,” the baron said, when he found himself again alone with the count, 
“that Don Melchior appears to me to be an ugly customer.” 

“ I entirely share that opinion,” the count answered, distinctly. 

At about three in the afternoon. Dona Dolores sent to ask the young men if 
they would do her the honour of offering her their company for a few moments: 
they eagerly accepted and hastened to join hor. They crossed Don Melchior in 
the courtyard : the young man did not speak to them, but looked after them 
till they had entered his sister’s apartments. 

A month passed. The count and his friend frequently went out, accompanied 
by the majordomo, either to shoot or simply for a ride ; sometimes, though 
rarely. Dona Dolores accompanied them. 

Now that the count was no longer alone with her, she seemed to be less 
afraid of meeting him, and at times even to take pleasure in it ; she favourably 
accepted his gallantries, smiled at the sallies that escaped from him, and under 


The Rebel Chief. 


58 


all circumstances evinced perfect confidence in him. But it was more especially 
to the pretended count that she displayed a marked preference. 

Dominique did not perceive, or pretended not to perceive, the young lady’s 
manoeuvres; though exquisitely polite to her and most attentive, he still 
remained within the strict limits he had laid down for himself. 

As for Don Melchior, his character had grown more and more sombre, his 
absences had become longer and more frequent, and on the rare occasions when 
accident brought him across the young men, he returned their bow silently, 
without deigning to say a syllable to them. 

In the meanwhile, political events pressed on with increasing rapidity: 
Juarez’ troops seriously occupied the country ; already scouts belonging to his 
party had appeared in the neighbourhood of the hacienda : people talked 
vaguely of Spanish chateaux taken by assault, plundered, and burnt. The 
anxiety was great at Arenal : Don Andres de la Cruz, who was not reassured 
as to the future, took the utmost precautions not to be surprised by the enemy. 
The question of abandoning the hacienda and retiring to Puebla had been 
agitated several times, but had constantly been obstinately repelled by Don 
Melchior. 

Still, the strange conduct which the young man displayed ever since the 
count had been at the hacienda, his affectation of keeping aloof, his long andi 
frequent absences, and, more than all, the recommendations of Don Oliver, 
whose mistrust had led to Dominique’s presence at the hacienda under the 
name of Baron de Meriadec, aroused the suspicions of Count de Saulay. 

The count, after ripe reflection, resolved to communicate his anxiety to 
Dominique and Leo Carral, when one evening, on entering the patio, he met 
Don Melchior on horseback proceeding to the haciendagate. The count asked 
himself why, at so advanced an hour (it was about nine o’clock at night), Don 
Melchior ventured on a moonless night to go alone into the country, at the 
risk of falling into an ambush of Juarez’ guerilleros. 

The departure of the young man dissipated the count’s last doubts. 

At this moment Leo Carral crossed the patio, and Ludovic called to him. 

“ Where are you going now ? ” the count asked the majordomo. 

“ I can hardly tell your excellency,” the majordomo answered. “ This even-, 
ing I feel more anxious than usual.” 

“ Can it be foreboding ? ” the count said. “ Shall I accompany you ? ” 

“ I purpose going out and beating up the country a little,” No Leo Carral 
continued. 

“ Very good : have my horse and Don Carlos’ saddled.” 

Mind, excellency, not to take any servants. I have a plan.” 

“ Agreed : in ten minutes we will be with you.*’ 

The count went to his apartment, Dominique was soon told of the state of 
affairs ; both left the apartments directly after, and found the majordomo, who, 
already mounted, was waiting for them at the open gate of the hacienda. They 
leapt on their horses and rode out in silence. 

“ Eh,” the count said, a minute after, “ what is the meaning of this ? Are we 
mounted on spectral steeds that produce no sound in moving ? ” 

“ Speak lower, excellency,” the majordomo remarked ; “ we are probably 
surrounded by spies ; as for that which perplexes you, it is only a very simple 
precaution ; your horse’s hoofs are thrust into sheepskin bags filled with sand/i 

“ Hang it 1 ” Ludovic replied, “ then we are on a secret expedition.’* 

“Yes, excellency, secret and most important^* 

“What is it?” 

“ 1 suspect Don Melchior*” 


Don Melchior, 


59 


“ But remember, friend, that he is the son and heir of Don Andres.” 

“Yes, but as we say, on the wrong side of the blanket ; his mother was a 
Zapotheque Indian. The mother died in childbirth, imploring Don Andres not 
to abandon the poor creature ; my master promised it, recognised the boy, and 
he was thus brought up as if he were really a legitimate son, the more so that 
Dona Lucca de la Cruz died only leaving her husband a daughter.” 

“ Ah ! ah ! ” said the count, “ I am beginning to get a glimpse of the truth.** 

“ All went well for some years ; but about a year ago my master received a 
letter, after reading which he had a long and serious explanation with his 
son.” 

“ Yes, yes, that letter reminded him of the marriage plan arranged between 
his family and mine, and announced my speedy arrival.” 

“ Probably, excellency ; but nothing transpired, except it was noticed that 
Don Melchior, who is not naturally of a gay temper, became from that period 
gloomy and morose. Although he had hitherto rarely left the hacienda, he 
now began to hare a wild liking for the chase. Your sudden arrival at the 
hacienda augmented his ill-feeling to a frightful extent, and I am convinced 
that in his despair at losing the inheritance he so long coveted he will not 
hesitate before anything, even a crime, to seize on it. Heaven knows that if I 
have spoken it was solely from a pure motive.” 

“ Everything is now explained to me. No Leo Carral.” 

“ Well,” said Dominique, “ if the opportunity presents itself, it will be a pious 
task to lodge a bullet in his wicked brain.” 

“ Amen ! ” said the count, with a laugh. 

At this moment they reached the plain. 

“ Excellency, here the difficulties of the enterprise we are about to undertake 
really commence,” the majordomo then said; “we must act with the most 
extreme prudence.” 

“ Fear nothing, we shall be dumb as fishes ; go on ahead without fear.” 

The majordomo took the head of the file, and th^ began advancing rather 
rapidly along the paths, which formed an inextricable network for any one but 
Leo Carral. 

As we have already stated, the night was moonless, and the sky was black as 

ink. 

They continued to advance without exchanging a word for half an hour. 

“ We have arrived,” said the majordomo, in a low voice ; “ we are in safety 
here.” 

“ Do you think so ? ” said Dominique ; “ I fancied during the march the cries 
of night birds too well imitated to be true.” 

“You are right,” Leo Carral answered; “but, thanks to the night and my 
acquaintance with the roads, we have thrown out those who started in pursuit 
of us ; they are seeking us in a direction opposed to the one in which we 
are.” 

“ That is what I fancied I could understand.” Dominique remarked. 

The count listened eagerly to this conversation, but to no effect, for what the 
two men said w^as Hebrew to him ; for the first time since he had been in the 
world, accident placed him in a situation so singular. 

“ Senores, take the bags off the her^^es, as they are no longer wanted, while 
I light a torch of ocote wood,” Leo Carral then said. 

The young men obeyed, for they recognised the majordomo as leader, 

“ Well, is it done ?” the majordomo asked, a moment after. 

** Yes,” the count answered, “ but we cannot see anything ; are you not goin? 
to light your torch ? ” 


6o 


The Rebel Chief. 


“It is lighted, but it would be too imprudent to show a light here; follow me, 
drawing your horses after you by the bridle.” 

He went in front again as guide, and they advanced or.ce more, but this time 
on foot. 

Erelong a liglit glistened.in front of them, and illuminated the place sufficiently 
to enable them to distinguish surrounding objects. 

They were in a natural grotto ; this grotto opened at the end of a passage. 

“ Where the deuce are we?” the count asked, in surprise. 

“As you see, excellency, in a grotto.” 

“Very good ; but you had a reason for bringing us here.” 

“ Certainly I had one, excellency, and the reason is as follows : this grotto 
communicates with the hacienda by a very long subterraneous passage ; this 
passage has several issues into the country, and two into the hacienda itself ; 
of the latter two, one is known to myself alone, and the other I stopped up this 
very day ; but fearing lest Don Melchior might have discovered this grotto during 
his rides, I determined to visit it to-night, and solidly wall it up inside.” 

“ Famously reasoned. No Leo Cai:ral ; there is no want of stones.” 

“ One moment ; let us make certain that other persons have not got before 

us.” 

“ Hum ! that appears to me rather difficult.” 

“ You think so, ’ he said, with a slight tinge of irony in his voice. 

He took the torch which he had placed on an angle, and stooped down to 
the ground, but almost immediately rose again, uttering a cry of fury. 

“ We are foiled,” he said, a moment after ; “ it is too late.” 

“ But explain yourself, in heaven’s name,” the count exclaimed ; “ ! do not 
understand what you are saying.” 

“ Stay, my dear fellow,” said Dominique, “ do you not see how the ground is 
trampled?*’ 

“Well?” 

“ Well, my poor friend, these footsteps were left by the men probably led by 
Don Melchior, who have taken this road to enter the hacienda, where they 
probably are by this time.” 

“ No,” the majordomo remarked, “ the footsteps are quite fresh ; they only 
entered a few minutes before us. The advance they have is nothing, for on 
reaching the end of the passage they will have to destroy the wall I built. 
Follow me, make haste, and leave your horses; ah, it was Heaven that inspired 
me not to touch the second outlet.” 

Then, waving the torch to revive the flame, the majordomo ran along a side 
gallery, followed by the two young men. The subte^'raneous passage rose with 
a gentle ascent ; the road which they had followed to reach the grotto wound 
round the hill on which the hacienda was built ; besides, they had been obliged 
to make numerous circuits, and march circumspectly, that is to say, rather 
slowly, through fear of being surprised, which had demanded a considerable 
lapse of time ; but now this was no longer the case, they ran on in a straight 
line, and they accomplished in less in a quarter of an hour what on horseback 
had required nearly an hour, and reached the garden. 

The hacienda was silent. 

“ Wake your servants, while I ring the alarm bell,” said the majordomo, 
“ possibly we may save the hacienda.” 

He ran to the bell, whose peals soon aroused the inhabitants of the hacienda. 

“ To arms, to arms I ” shouted the count and his two companions. 

In a few words Don Andres was informed of the state of mat ers, and while 
he had his daug hter guarded in her rooms by some devoted attendants, and 


The Assault, 6i 


organised the defence as well as circumstances permitted him, the majordomo, 
followed by the two young men and their servants, dashed into the garden. 

On reaching it, the five men distinctly heard the hurried blows which the 
assailants were dealing on the wall. 

They ambushed themselves within pistol shot of the issue, behind a clump of 
trees and shrubs. 

“ But these people must be bandits,” the count exclaimed. 

“ Of course they are bandits,” Dominique replied ; “ you will soon see them.” 

“ In that case, attention,” said the count, “ and let us receive them as they 
deserve.” 

In the meantime, the blows were redoubled in the passage ; ere long one 
stone was detached, then a second, then a third, and a rather large breach was 
opened in the wall. The guerilleros dashed forward with a shout of joy, which 
was at once turned into a yell of pain. Five shots, blended in one, had ex- 
ploded like a formidable clap of thunder. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE ASSAULT. 

At the frightful discharge that greeted them and scattered death in their ranks, 
the guerilleros fell back with horror; surprised by those whom they had calcu- 
lated on surprising, their first thought was flight. 

The defenders of the hacienda, whose number had considerably increased, 
took advantage of this hesitation to send a shower of bullets among them. 

The proprietor of the hacienda was rich, as the guerilleros were aware ; for a 
long time past they had desired to seize this wealth, which they had coveted, 
and which, whether rightly or wrongly, they supposed to be hidden in the 
nacienda ; it cost them a great struggle to give up this expedition. 

Still the bullets constantly scattered among them, and they did not dare to 
pass the breach. Their chiefs put an end to any hesitation by resolutely 
arming themselves with pickaxes and crowbars, not only to enlarge the breach, 
but also to completely tl row down the wall, for they understood that it was 
only by a sudden irruption that they could succeed in overthrowing the opposi- 
tion of the defenders. 

The latter continued to fire bravely, but most of their shots were thrown away. 

“They have changed their tactics,’’ the count said to Dominique, “they are 
now engaged in throwing down the wall, and will soon return to the attack ; 
and,” he added, taking a sorrowful glance around, “ we shall be conquered.” 

“ Stay, I hive an idea,” Dominique suddenly said, striking his forehead ; 
‘‘ you have gunpowder here.” 

“ Yes, thank Heaven, there is no want of that ; but what is the use of it ?” 

“ Have a barrel brought here as speedily as possible, I answer for the rest,” 

The majordomo ran off. 


62 


The Rebel Chief, 


** What do you intend to do ? ” the count asked. 

You shall see/’ the young man replied, with flashing eyes ; “ a glorious idea 
has occurred to me. These brigands will probably seize the hacienda, and we are 
too weak to resist, but, by Jupiter, it shall cost them dearly.” 

“ I do not understand you.” 

“ Ah,” the young man continued, “ ah, they wish to open a wide passage/^ 

At this moment the majordomo returned with three barrels on a truck. 

“ Three barrels ! ” Dominique exclaimed, joyously ; “ all the better.” 

But what do you intend doing ? ” 

“ I mean to blow them up, by heaven ! ” he exclaimed. “ Come, to work ! ” 

He took a barrel and unheaded it ; the count and Leo Carral did the same. 

“ Now,” he said, addressing the peons, “ back, you fellows, but still continue 
to fire.” 

The three men remained alone with the count’s two servants, who refused to 
abandon their master. In a few words Dominique explained his plan. They 
raised the barrels, and gliding silently behind the trees, approached the grotto. 
The besiegers could not see what was going on outside. It was therefore an 
easy task tor the five men to reach the very foot of the wall. Dominique placed 
the three powder-barrels so as to touch the wall, and on these barrels he, aided 
by his companions, piled all the stones he could find. Then he took his mechero, 
drew out the tinder-match, from which he cut off about six inches, lit it, and 
planted it on one of the barrels. 

“ Back ! back 1 ” he said in a low voice ; “ the wall no longer holds.” 

And, setting the example, he ran off at full speed. Nearly all the defenders 
of the hacienda, about forty in number, with Don Andres at their head, were 
assembled at the entrance of the huerta. 

“ Why are you running so hard ? ” the haciendero asked ; “ are the brigands 
after you ? ” 

No, no,” Dominique replied ; “but you will soon have news of them.” 

Where is Dona Dolores ? ” the count asked. 

“ In my apartments with her women, and perfectly safe.” 

“ Fire, you fellows ! ” Dominique shouted to the peons. 

“ Raimbaut,” the count said, in a low voice ; “ we must foresee everything. 
Go with Lanca Ibarru, and saddle five horses ; mind one of them is a side-saddle. 
You understand me, do you not ? ” 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

“ You will lead these horses to the door at the end of the huerta.” 

Raimbaut went off at once, as If nothing extraordinary were occurring at the 
moment. 

“ Ah ! ” said Don Andres with a sigh of regret ; “ if Melchior was here he 
would be very useful to us.” 

“ He will be here soon, senor, you may be sure,” the count remarked ironi* 

cally. 

“ Where can he be, though ? ” 

“ Ah I who can tell ? ” 

“ Ah ! ah I ” Dominique exclaimed ; “ something is going on down there.* 

The stones, vigorously assailed by the repeated blows of the guerilleros, were 
beginning to fall outwards. The breach was rapidly entered, but at last a whole 
piece of wall fell in one mass into the garden. The guerilleros uttered a loud 
shout, threw down their picks, and seizing their weapons prepared to rush 
forth. But suddenly a terrible explosion was heard ; the earth quivered as if 
agitated by a volcanic convulsion ; a cloud of smoke rose to the sky, and masses 
of ruins, raised by the explosion, were hurled in all directions. A horrible cry 


The Assault. 


53 


of agony ran through the air, and that was all ; a deadly silence brooded over 
the scene. 

“ Forward ! forward 1 ” Dominique shouted. 

The injury caused by the mine was terrible. The catastrophe must have been 
awful, but the passage kept the secret close, 

“ Oh ! Heaven be praised ! We are saved I ” Don Andres exclaime'd. 

“ Yes, yes,” the majordomo exclaimed, “ if no other assailants arrive,” 

Suddenly, as if in justification of the remark, loud cries were heard blended 
with shots, and a vivid flame lit up the country with a sinister gleam. 

“ To arms ! To arms ! ” the peons, shouted, as they ran up in alarm. 

And they speedily saw, by the red glow of the fire which was devouring the 
buildings, the black outlines of some hundred men. A few paces in advance 
of the bandits advanced a man, holding a sabre in one hand and a torch in the 
other. 

“ Don Melchior ! ” the old gentleman exclaimed, despairingly. 

“ By Heaven I I will stop him ! ” Dominique said, taking aim at him, 

“ It is my son I ” said Don Andres, darting at the gun. 

The shot passed harmlessly through the air. 

“ Hum ! I fancy you will repent having saved his life, senor,” Dominique 
coldly replied. 

Don Andres, dragged away by the count and Dominique, entered his apart- 
ments, all the issues to which his peons hastily barricaded, and then kept up a 
sustained fire from the windows on the besiegers. 

Don Melchior had an understanding with the partisans of Juarez. Reduced, 
as the majordomo had very correctly told the count, to a state of desperation 
by the speedy marriage of his sister and the inevitable loss of the fortune of 
which he had so long entertained the hope of being sole heir, the young man 
forgot all moderation, and, under certain conditions accepted by Cuellar, he 
had proposed to the latter to surrender the hacienda to him. It was then 
arranged that a portion of the cuadrilla, under the orders of resolute officers, 
should attempt a surprise by the secret passage. Then, while this troop was 
operating, the rest of the cuadrilla, under Cuellar’s own orders, and guided by 
Don Melchior, would silently scale the walls of the hacienda on the side of the 
corrals. 

Cuellar, though he was still ignorant of it, had lost one-half of his cuadrilla,. 
With the men left him he was at this moment waging an obstinate fight with 
the peons, who, knowing they had to deal with the band of Cuellar, the most 
ferocious and sanguinary of all Juarez’ guerilleros, fought with the energy of 
desperation. The combat lasted some time. The peons, ambushed in the 
apartments, had lined the windows with everything that came to hand. Cuellar 
wee furious, not alone at this unforeseen resistance, but also at the incompre- 
henshile delay of the soldiers of his cuadrilla who had entered by the grotto. 
He had certainly heard the noise of the explosion, but as he was at the time at 
a considerable distance from the hacienda, in a direction diametrically opposed 
to that where the explosion took place, the noise had reached his ears indis- 
tinctly ; but the inexplicable delay of his comrades at this moment was begin- 
ning to cause him lively anxiety, and he was on the point of sending one of his 
me-n off to hurry the laggards, when suddenly shouts of victory were raised 
from the interior of the buildings he was attacking. It was owing to Don 
Melchior that this decisive success had been obtained. While the main body 
of the assailanlf; attacked the buildings in front, he, accompanied by several 
resolute men, stepped through a low window, which in the first momeat 
fusion the defenders had forgotten to barricade like the rest» 


64 


The Rebel Chief. 


At this moment it was do longer a fight but a horrible butchery. The peons, 
in spite of their entreaties, were seized by the conquerors, stabbed, and hurled 
through the windows. The guerilleros soon poured through the buildings, pur- 
suing the wretched peons from room to room, and pitilessly massacring them. 
They thus reached a large drawing-room, whose large folding doors were wide 
open ; but on arriving there they not merely stopped, but recoiled with an in- 
stinctive movement of terror before the terrible spectacle that was presented to 
them. This room was splendidly lit up by a number of candles, placed in all 
the chandeliers and on the various articles of furniture. In one corner of the 
room a barricade had been erected by piling up the furniture : behind this barri- 
cade Dona Dolores had sought shelter with all the wives and children of the 
hacienda peons ; two paces in front of the barricade, four men were standing 
erect with a gun in one hand and a pistol in the other. These four men were 
Don Andres, the Count, Dominique, and Leo Carral : two barrels of gunpowder, 
with their heads knocked out, were placed near them. 

“ Halt ! ” the count said in a jeering voice ; “ halt, I request, Caballeros.” 

The guerilleros were careful not to disobey this courteous hint. Don Melchior 
stamped his foot savagely. 

What do you want ? ” he asked in a strangled voice, 

“ Nothing of you ; we will not parley with a scoundrel of your stamp.” 

‘“You shall be shot like dogs, accursed Frenchman.” 

“ I defy you to put your threat in execution,” said the count, as he cocked his 
revolver. 

“ Do not fire ! ” exclaimed the guerilleros ; “ here is the colonel.” 

In fact, Cuellar arrived. Cuellar is a frightful bandit — this statement will sur- 
prise nobody ; but we must do him the justice of stating that he possesses 
unparalleled bravery. He forced his way through his soldiers, and soon found 
himself standing alone in front of them. He bowed gracefully to the four men. 

Well,” he said, gaily, “ the affair you have imagined is most ingenious. 
Those demons of Frenchmen have incredible ideas, on my honour,” he added, 
speaking to himself ; “ they never allow themselves to be taken unawares.” 

And in case of need we would no more hesitate to do it than we hesitated 
to blow up your men, whom you sent as scouts through the grotto.” 

“ What,” Cuellar asked, turning pale — “ what is it you are saying ? ” 

I am saying,” the count replied, coldly, “ that you can have their corpses 
sought for in the passage ; all will be found there, for all have fallen there.” 

A shudder of terror ran along the ranks of the guerilleros at these words. 

There was a silence ; Cuellar was reflecting. 

“ Are you looking for a light ? ” Dominique asked him, as he advanced 
towards him candle in hand ; “ pray light your cigarette, senor,” 

And he politely held out the candle. 

“ Thanks, senor,” said Cuellar, lighting his cigarette, and returning the can- 
dlestick. 

Dominique rejoined his companions. 

“ So then,” said Cuellar, “ you request a capitulation.” 

You are mistaken,” the count replied ; “ we offer you one,*’ 

“ You offer us ? ” the guerillero said with amazement. 

“ Yes, since we are masters of your lives.” 

“ Pardon me,” Cuellar said, “ that is specious, for on blowing us up you will 
go with us.” 

“ Hang it 1 that is precisely what we intend.” 

Come,” said Cuellar — “ come to the fact. What do you W3Xit ? ** 

** 1 will tell you,” the count amswered. 


CHAPTER XVIL 


AFTER THE BATTLE. 

Pardon, senores,” began Cuellar, “before going further, it is necessary to 
have a thorough understanding, I think, so permit me to make a slight observa* 
tion.” 

“ Do so, senor,” the count answered. 

“ I am a very easy man to deal with, but do not ask of me extravagant things 
which I should be forced to refuse, for I need not tell you that, if you are deter- 
mined, I am no less so, and while desiring a bargain equally advantageous for 
both sides, still, if you are too exorbitant, I should prefer to blow up with you, 
the more so because I have a presentiment that I shall go that way some day or 
other, and should not be sorry to go to the deuce in such excellent company.” 

Although these words were uttered with a smiling air, the count was not 
deceived. 

“ Oh, senor,” he said, “ you know us very badly if you suppose us capable 
of asking impossibilities of you. Still, as our position is good, we wish to take 
advantage of it.” 

“ I think you perfectly right, but I thought it my duty to make this obser- 
vation.” 

“ Be convinced senor,” the count answered, “ that we shall demand reason- 
able conditions.” 

“You demand,” Cuellar repeated, laying a stress on these two words. 

“Yes : hence we will not oblige you to leave the hacienda, because we know 
that if you went out to-day you would recommence the attack to-morrow.” 

“You are full of penetration, senor; so pray come to the facts.” 

“ In the first place you will give up the poor peons who have escaped the 
massacre.” 

“ I see no difficulty in that.” 

“ With their arms, horses, and the little they possess,” 

“ Agreed ; go on.” 

“ Don Andres de la Cruz, his daughter, my friend, myself, and Leo Carral, 
the majordomo, and all the women and children sheltered in this room, will be 
at liberty to retire.” 

Cuellar made a grimace. “ What next ? ” he said. 

“ Pardon me, is that settled ? ” 

** Y(is, it is settled ; what next ? ” 

“ My friend and I are strangers, Frenchmen, and Mexico is not at war, as far 
as I am aware, with our country.” 

“ It might happen,” Cuellar said, maliciously. 

“ Perhaps so ; but in the meanwhile we are at peace,” 

“ Have you not fought against us ? ” 

That is true ; but we had a right to defend ourselves ; wf were attacked 
were compelled to fight.” 

“Good, good; enough of that.” 


66 


The Chief, 


“ We therefore request the right to take away with us on mules everything 
that belongs to us, and then there only remains a slight formality.” 

“ A formality ? What is it ? ” 

“ That of the hostages.” 

“ Hostages ! have you not my word ? ” 

As I told you, hostages : you can perfectly understand, senor, that I would 
not confide my life and that of my companions, I will not say to you, for I hold 
your word and believe it good, but to your soldiers, who, like the worthy 
guerilleros they are, would have not the slightest scruple, if we had the madness 
to place ourselves in their power, about plundering us, and perhaps worse ; you 
do not command reg^ular troops, senor.” 

Cuellar, flattered in his heart by the count’s remarks, gave him a gracious 
smile. 

“ Hum I ” he said, “ what you say may be true. How many hostages do you 
require ? ” 

“ Only one — yourself,” the count answered distinctly. 

‘'Canariosl” Cuellar said, with a grin, “you are cool; that one would be 
sufficient.” 

“ For that reason we will have no other.” 

“ But I refuse, Carai ! And who would be security for me, if you please ?” 

“The word of a French gentleman,” the count hastily replied. 

“ On my word,” Cuellar continued, with that bonhomie of which he possesses 
so large a share, “ I accept, caballero, let what may happen, for I am curious to 
try that word of honour of which Europeans are so proud ; it is settled, then, 
that I act as your hostage. Now how long am I to remain with you?” 

“ We will ask no more of you than to accompany us within sight of Puebla; 
once there you shall be at liberty.” 

“ I am yours, caballero. Don Melchior, you will remain here during my 
absence.” 

“ Yes,” Don Melchior replied, hoarsely. 

The count, after whispering a few words to the majordomo, again addressed 
Cuellar. 

“ Senor,” he said, “ be kind enough to give orders for the peons to be brought 
here.” 

“ Good,” said Cuellar, “ the majordomo can go about his business j you hear, 
my men,” he added, “ this man is free ; bring the peons here.” 

Some fifteen poor wretches, with their clothes in rags, and covered with 
blood, then entered the drawing-room ; these fifteen men were all tha** 
remained of the defenders of the hacienda. Cuellar then entered the room, in 
the doorway of which he had been hitherto standing, and without being invited 
to do it posted himself behind the barricade. Don Melchior, feeling the false 
position in which he was placed, turned away to retire ; but at this moment 
Don Andres rose. 

“ Stay, Melchior,” he said ; “ now that we shall never meet again in thia 
world, a final explanation is necessary.” 

Don Melchior started at the sound of this voice ; he turned pale, and said — 

“ What do you want with me ? Speak, I am listening to you.” 

For a very considerable period the old man stood with his eyes fixed on his 
son with a strangely blended expression of love, anger, grief, and contempt. 

“Why wish to withdraw? Is it because the crime you have committed 
horrifies you, or are you really flying with fury in your heart at seeing your 
intention foiled ? God has not permitted the complete success of your sinister 
projects. Go, wretch, marked on the brow by an indelible stigma, be accursed! 


After the Battle. 


^1 


and may this curse which I pronounce on you weigh eternally on your heart; 
go, parricide, I no longer know you.” 

Don Melchior, in spite of all his audacity, could not sustain the flashing 
glance which his father implacably fixed on him, and he recoiled slowly without 
turning round, as if dragged away by a force superior to his will. 

A funereal silence pervaded the room ; all these men felt the influence of th^ 
terrible malediction. Cuellar was the first to recover his coolness, 

“You were wrong,” he said to Don Andres, with a shake of his head, “to 
offer your son this crushing insult in the presence of all.” 

“Yes, yes,” the old gentleman answered ; “he will avenge himself.” 

And bowing his head on his chest, the old man sank in gloomy meditation, 

“Watch over him,” Cuellar said to the count ; “ I know Don Melchior.” 

In the meanwhile, Dona Dolores, who up to this moment had remained 
timidly concealed among her women behind the barricade, rose, removed some 
articles of furniture, glided softly through the opening she had effected, and sat 
down by the side of Don Andres. The latter did not stir ; he had neither seen 
her come nor heard her place herself by his side. 

“ My father — dear father,” she said, “ have >ou not a child left who loves and 
respects you } Do not let yourself be thus prostrated by grief ; I am your 
daughter — do you not love me ?” 

“ Oh, I was ungrateful ! ” exclaimed Don Andres; “ I doubted the infinite good- 
ness of God. My daughter is left to me ! I am no longer alone in the world.” 

“Yes, papa, God has wished to try us; be brave, forget your ungrateful 
son ; when he repents, remove the terrible malediction you uttered against him..” 

“ Never speak to me about your brother, child,” the old man replied ; “ that 
man no longer exists with me ; you have no brother.” 

“ Calm yourself, in Heaven’s name, papa, I implore you.” 

The guerilleros had dispersed over all parts of the hac endi, plundering and 
devastating, breaking the furniture, and forcing locks v/ith a dexterity that 
evidenced lengthened practice. Still, according to the agreement made, the 
count’s apartments were respected. 

“ Gentlemen, we will go when you please,” the count said. 

“ At once, then.” 

Cuellar rode at the head, by the side of the count; behind him was Dona 
Dolores, between her father and Dominique ; next came the peons. 

They descended the hill at a slow pace, and ere long found themselves in the 
plain. The night was dark — it was about two hours after midnight; the cold 
was severe, and the sorrowful travellers shivered under their zarapes. 

Suddenly a great light tinged the sky with reddish hues, and lit up the 
country for a long distance. The hacienda was on fire. At this sight Don 
Andres cast a sad glance behind him, and gave vent to a deep sigh ; bui he did 
not utter a word. Cuellar was the only person that spoke. He tried to prove 
to the count that war had painful necessities, that for a long time past Don 
Andres had been denounced as an avowed partisan of Miramon — all matters 
to which the count, understanding the inutility of a discussion on such a subject 
with such a man, did not even take the trouble to reply. 

The sun rose, and the steeples of Puebla appeared in the distance. 

The count ordered the party to haltr 

“Senor,” he said to Cuellar, “you have loyally fulfilled the conditions 
stipulated between us ; receive my thanks and those of my unfortunate com- 
panions here.'^ 

“ In truth, senor, I believe that you can now do without me, and, as you per- 
mit it, I will leave you, repeating my regret for what has occurred.” 


68 


The Rebel Chief. 


No more of this, pray,” said the count ; “ what is done is irreparable." 

** One word, Senor Conde,” said Cuellar, in a low voice, “ Let me give you a 
piece of advice ere we part.” 

“ Pray go on, senor.” 

-■‘You are still far from Puebla ; be on your guard.” 

“ What do you mean, senor ? ” 

“ It is inipossible to know what may happen j I repeat to you, watch.” 

After thus courteously taking leave of the party, the guerillero placed* himself 
at the head of his men and galloped off. The count watched him depart with 
a pensive air. 

“ What is the matter, friend ? ” Dominique asked him. 

Ludovic told him what Cuellar had said to him on taking leave* 

“ There is something in the background,” said the vaquero. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE AMBUSH. 

For some minutes after the departure of the guerillero the caravan continued 
its journey. The last words uttered by Cuellar had gone home, however ; the 
count and the vaquero felt involuntarily restless. It was a little past five ; the 
fugitives were following a winding track, beset on either side by factitious 
embankments, thrown up for the cultivation of the agir, which limited the 
horizon to an extremely narrow circle. The count approached Dominique, 
and leaning over the saddle, said, in a low cautious voice — 

“ My friend, I know not why, but I feel an extreme anxiety : the farewell of 
that bandit painfully affected me ; and yet we are only a short distance from 
the town, and the tranquillity that prevails around us ought to reassure me.” 

“ It is this tranquillity,” the young man replied in the same key, “which causes 
me like yourself indescribable agony ; I too have a presentiment of misfortune.” 

“ What is to be done ? ” the count muttered. 

I do not know exactly ; still, I feel convinced that we ought to redouble our 
prudence. Place Don Andres and his daughter in front, warn the peons to 
march with finger on trigger, and be ready for the slightest alarm; in the 
meanwhile, I will go out scouting.” 

When left alone the count immediately set about following his friend’s 
advice. He formed a rear guard of the most resolute peons, and gave them 
orders attentively to watch the approaches ; but he concealed from them, 
through fear of terrifying them, the gravity of the events he foresaw. 

Leo Carral, who was devoted to his master and young mistress, and who 
understood how incapable the old gentleman would be of offering the slightest 
resistance in the probable event of an attack, had especially recommended the 
servants he selected to serve as an escort to Don Andres not to lose sight of 
him ; and in the event of a combat, to make every possible effort to draw him 


The Amhush. 


69 


cstitof the medley ; then at a signal the count gave him, he turned back and 
rejoined him, 

“ I see,” the count said, “ that like myself you have forebodings.” 

“ Don Melchior will not give up the game,” he replied, “ until he has eit 
won or lost.” 

“ Why, in that case he is a monster.” 

“ No,” the majordomo gently replied, “ he is a mixed blood — an envioa3 
proud man. All means will be right to obtain this consideration.” 

“ Even parricide ? ” 

“ What would you have, senor ? It is so.” 

“ Thank Heaven I we are approaching Puebla ; once there, we shall 
nothing to fear.” 

“ Yes, but we are not there yet ; ’twixt the cup and the lip there’s many a slip. 

“ I hope that this time you will be mistaken ; but in case of our being attacked 
1] insist that you leave us to our own resources and escape at full speed towards 
Puebla, taking with you Don Andres and his daughter, while we are fighting.” 

“ I will obey you, excellency. No one shall reach my master without passing 
< 5 >yer my corpse. Have you nothing more to say to me ? ” 

No. Return to your post ; and may Heaven be gracious to us ! ” 

The majordomo bowed, and galloped up to the small troop, in the centre of 
whom were Don Andres and his daughter. Almost at the same moment 
Dominique reappeared on the side of the track, and stationed himself on the 
count's right. 

Well,” the latter asked him, “ have you discovered anything ? ” 

Yes, and no,” he replied, in a low voice. 

His face was gloomy, his eyebrows contracted till they joined, 

“ Explain yourself,” at length said the count to him. 

“ What is the use ? You will not understand me.” 

“ Perhaps not ; but speak all the same.” 

“ This is the fact. The plain is completely deserted on our right, left, and 
rear — I am certain of that. If the danger really exists it is not to be feared in 
those quarters. If a trap is laid for us, this trap is ahead.” 

“ What makes you suppose this ? ” 

“ Signs which are certain to me. In the regions where we now are men 
generally neglect all the precautions employed on the prairies. Here the trail 
is easy to recognise, and easier to follow, for it is perfectly visible even to the 
most inexperienced eye. Listen carefully to this. Since we left the hacienda 
we have been — I will not say followed, for the term is not correct — but accom- 
panied on our right by a large party of horsemen. These men wheeled about 
half a league from here, drawing slightly nearer to our left, as if they wished 
to approach us ; but they then doubled their pace, passed us, and entered ahead 
of us the track on which we now are.” 

“ And you conclude from this ” 

“ That the situation is dangerous — even critical. We are now in a canon, 
and in a quarter of an hour, or twenty minutes at the most, we shall reach the 
spot where the canon opens on the plain. It is there, be assured, that our 
watchers are waiting for us.” 

“ Unluckily, we have no way of escaping the fate that menaces us.” 

“ I know it, and it is that which vexes me,” the vaquero said, suppressing a 
sigh, as he cast a side glance at Dona Dolores. If the question only concerned 
us it would soon be settled, for we are men.” 

“ At least we will attempt impossibilities to keep the others from falling into 
the hands of their persecutors.” 


70 


The Relel Chief, 


“ We are now approaching the suspicious point, so let us push on.” 

They forced their horses into a gallop. A few minutes passed, and they then 
reached a spot where the path, before entering the plain, made a sharp curve. 

“ Look out ! ” the count said, in a sharp voice. 

All placed their finger on the trigger. The curve was passed, but suddenly 
the whole cavalcade halted with a start of surprise and terror. The entrance 
of the car»on was barred by a strong barricade, behind which sonw twenty men 
were standing. The weapons of other men crowning the heights on the right 
and left could be seen glistening in the beams of the rising sun. A horseman 
was standing in the centre of the path. It was Don Melchior. 

“ Ah ! ah ! ” he said, with an ironical grin ; “ each in his turn, cabaPJeros.” 

The count, without being sn the least disconcerted, drew nearer. 

“ Take care of what you are going to do, senor,” he replied ; “ a treatty was 
loyally concluded between your chief and us.” 

“ Good ! ” Don Melchior retorted ; “ we are partisans, and carry on waf in 
our own fashion. Instead of entering into idle discussion, I fancy it wouH be 
more sensible to inform you on what conditions I will consent to let you pas]^.’** 
If you do not consent to let us pass we may compel you to do so.” 

Try it 1 ” he replied, with an ironical smile, 

** We are going to do so.” 

“ Fire 1 ” Don Melchior shouted. 

A frightful detonation was heard, and a shower of bullets whistled round the 
little party. 

” Forward ! forward ! ” the count cried. 

The peons rushed with yells of anger against the barricade. The struggle 
began — a terrible, fearful struggle j for the peons knew that no quarter would’* 
be granted them by their ferocious adversaries, and they fought accordingly, 
Don Andres had torn himself from the arms of his daughter, and, only armed 
with a machete, boldly threw himself into the thickest of the fight. Don 
Melchior was far from expecting such a vigorous resistance. The event singu- 
larly deranged his calculations. Cuellar, who would doubtless have forgiven 
an act of treachery accomplished without striking a blow, would not pardon him 
for letting his bravest soldiers be killed. These thoughts redoubled Don 
Melchior’s rage. The small troop, horribly decimated, now only counted a 
few men capable of fighting. 

Don Andres’ horse had been killed, and the old gentleman, though his blood 
poured from two wounds, did not the less continue to fight. All at once he 
uttered a fearful cry of despair ; Don Melchior had dashed with a tiger’s bound 
into the centre of the group where Dona Dolores had sought shelter. Hurling 
down all the peons who came in his way, Don Melchior seized the girl, in spite 
of her resistance, threw her across his horse’s neck, and, clearing all obstacles, 
fled. His comrades, on seeing themselves thus abandoned, gave up a fight 
which no longer possessed any object for them, and dispersed in all directions. 
The abduction of Dona Dolores had been so rapidly performed by Don Melchior 
that no one noticed it at the first moment. Without calculating the dangers 
to which they exposed themselves, the count and the majordomo dashed in 
pursuit of Don Melchior. But the young man, who was mounted on a valuable 
horse, had a considerable advance on their tired steeds, which was augmented! 
every instant. Dominique cast a glance at Don Andres, and said — 

“ Have good hopes, senor ; I will save your daughter.” 

The old gentleman clasped his hands, and, after looking at him with an 
expression of unspeakable gratitude, fainted away. The vaquero remounted 
bis horse, and, driving his spurs into the animal’s flanks, he left Don Andres in 


The Amhush, 


1 


the hands of hii servants, and in his turn started in pursuit of the abductor. 
Don Melchior, who had hitherto galloped in a straight line across country, 
suddenly made a sharp whirl, as if an unforeseen obstacle had suddenly risen 
before him, and, keeping to the right, he seemed for some minutes desirous of 
reapproaching his pursuers. The latter then aimed at barring his passage. 
Dominique stopped his horse, dismounted, and cocked his gun. 

According to the direction Don Melchior was following at this moment he 
must pass within a hundred yards. The vaquero made the sign of the cross, 
shouldered his gun, and pulled the trigger. Don Melchior’s horse, struck in the 
head, rolled on the ground. At the same moment some thirty partizans 
appeared in the distance, galloping at full speed ; Cuellar rode at their head. 
I Great as was the haste displayed by the count and the majordomo to reach the 
1 spot, Cuellar arrived before them. Don Melchior rose, much hurt by his fall, 
I and leant down to his sister to help her to rise. 

I “ By heavens ! senor,” Cuellar said, “you are a rude comrade ; you practise 
f treachery and ambushes with rare talent ; but may the fiend twist my neck if 
[ we ride any longer in company.” 

r “ You select your time badly for jesting, senor,” Don Melchior replied. 

I “ Whose fault is it ? ” the partisan exclaimed, brutally. “ I will put matters 

f in order, I vow 1 ” 

[ “ What do you mean ?” Don Melchior asked, haughtily, 

p “ I mean that you will henceforth do me the great pleasure of going wherever 
^ you like so long as it is not with us. This is clear, is it not ?” 

« “ Perfectly clear, senor ; and hence I will not abuse your patience any longer. 

Supply me with the requisite horses.” 

“ Hang me if I supply you with anything ! As for this young lady, here are 
' several gentlemen coming who, I am afraid, will hardly let you take her away 
i with you.” 

Don Melchior turned pale with rage, but he comprehended that any resistance 
on his part was impossible. The count, the majordomo, and Dominique were 
really hurrying up. Cuellar walked some paces toward them, and Dominique 
felt rather anxious, for they did not know the partisan’s intentions. 

Cuellar hastened to disabuse them. “You arrive opportunely, senores,’* he 
said ; “ I hope that you have not done me the insult of supposing that I was in 
any way connected with the trap to which you so nearly fell victims.” 

“ We did not believe it for a moment, senor,” the count politely replied. 

“ I thank you for the good opinion you entertain of me, senores : of course 
you have to request that this young lady may be delivered to you.” 

“ That is certainly our intention, senor.” 

“ And if I refuse to let you remove her,” Don Melchior said, fiercely. 

“ I shall blow out your brains, senor.” the partisan coolly interrupted. 
** Believe me, you had better not try to contend with me.” 

“ Be it so,” Don Melchior remarked, bittorly ; “ I will retire since I am com- 
pelled to do so ; ” and looking at the count disdainfully, he added, “ We shall 
meet again, senor, and then I hope the chances will be equal.” 

“You have already been mistaken on that point, senor.” 

“ We shall see,” he replied, falling back a few paces as if to withdraw. 

Everybody recoiled with horror watching this monster, who departed across 
the plain, apparently calm and peaceful. 

“ That man is a demon,” muttered Cuellar, and crossed himself. 

“ I regret more than I can express this unfortunate event,” he said, with 
some degree of sadness. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


COMPLICATIONS. 

Loick ended his narrative. The ranchero’s story had been a long one. Don 
Jaime listened to it from one end to the other without interruption; with a cold 
and impassive face, but with flashing eyes. 

“ Is that all ? ” he asked Loick, turning to him. 

“Yes, all, excellency.” 

“ In what way were you so well informed of the slightest details of this awful 
catastrophe ? ” 

“It was Dominique himself who related the events to me; he was half mad 
with rage and grief ” 

Don Jaime sharply interrupted him. 

“ Very good ; did Dominique give you no other message for me ? ” he asked, 
fixing on him a fiery glance. 

“ Excellency,” stammered the ranchero. 

“ Confound the Briton,” the adventurer exclaimed; “ what cause have you to 
tremble ? ” 

“ Excellency,” he said, resolutely, “ I am afraid I have done a stupid thing.” 

“ By Heaven I I suspected it, if only from your air of contrition.” 

“ It is,” he continued, “ that Dominique appeared in such despair at not 
knowing where to find you — he seemed to have such a desire to speak to you, 
that ” 

“ That you could not hold your tongue, and revealed to him ” 

“ Where you live ; yes, excellency.” 

“ Of course you told him under what name I concealed myself in this house ? ” 
Don Jaime continued, a moment after. 

“ Hang it,” Loick said, simply, ” if I had not done so he would have had a 
difficulty in finding you, excellency.” 

Don Jaime walked up and down the room, reflecting ; then, approaching 
Loick, who was still motionless at his place, he asked him — 

“ Did you come alone to Mexico ? ” 

“ Lopez accompanied me, excellency ; but I left him at a pulqueria.” 

*' Good, you will join him there, but say nothing to him. In an hour, not 
sooner, you will return here with him ; perhaps I shall want you both.” 

“ Good,” he said, rubbing his hands ; “ all right, excellency, we shall come*^* 

“ Now be off.” 

“ Pardon, excellency, I have a note to deliver to you.” 

“ A note 1 from whom ? ” 

Loick felt in his dolman, drew out a carefully sealed letter, and handed it to 
Don Jaime. 

The note, though short, was written in cypher ; it was to the following 
effect 

“ Everything is going on ' admirably ; our man is coming of his own accord 
to the bait held out to him. Saturday, midnight, peral. 

“ Hope I 


“ Cordova.' 


Complications, 


73 


S: Don Jaime walked up and doVn the room in deep thought. 

“ Can I go ? ” Loick ventured. 

^ “You ought to have gone ten minutes ago,” he answered, sharply. 

The ranchero did not require a repetition of this injunction. He bowed, awd 
■'retired. Don Jaime remained alone, but at the end of a minute the door 
■'Opened, and the two ladies came in again. 

“ You have received bad news, Don Jaime ?” Dona Maria asked. 

“Yes, and I have no reason for concealing it from you; and, besides, it 
I concerns people whom you love.” 

“ Heavens 1 ” said Dona Carmen, clasping her hands, “ can it be Dolores ? ” 

“ Dolores — yes, my child,” Don Jaime answered ; “ Dolores, your friend ; the 
'Hacienda del Arenal has been surprised and burnt by the Juarists.” 

“ Oh, Heavens ! ” the ladies exclaimed j “ poor Dolores. And Don Andres ? ** 
^ “ He is dangerously wounded.” 

“ Thank God, he is not dead.” 

“ He is not much better.” 

“ Where are they at this moment ? ” 

“ Sheltered in Puebla, where they arrived under the escort of some of their 
[.peons, commanded by Leo Carral. 

. “ Oh 1 he is a devoted servant.” 

“ But had he been alone, I doubt whether he would have succeeded in saving 
his masters ; fortunately Don Andres had at the hacienda two French gentle- 
men, the Count de la Saulay.” 

“ The gentleman who is going to marry Dolores ? ” Dona Carmen said, eagerly, 

“ Yes, and the Baron Charles de Meriadec, attache to the French embassy.” 

1 “ But Dolores cannot remain at Puebla ; she had better come here. I shall 
also see if Dona Andres can be removed.” 

“ But,” said Don Carmen, “ I notice you do not speak of Don Melchior.” 

' “ He is the wretch who commanded and led the Juarists to the attack of the 
hacienda,” he cried. 

“ Oh 1 ” the two ladies exclaimed in horror, 
f “ Afterwards, when Don Andres and his daughter obtained permission to 
retire safe and sound to Puebla, a man laid a snare for them a short distance 
from the town, and treacherously attacked them : this man was once again Don 
Melchior.” 

‘ This is horrible ! ” they said, as they hid their faces in their hands. 

“ Is it not?” he continued ; “ the more horrible, as Don Melchior had coldly 
calculated on his father’s death, that he wished by parricide to seize his 
sister’s fortune.” 

The two ladies were terrified by this announcement. Dona Maria warmly 
urged Don Jaime to have Don Andres and his daughter conveyed to Mexico 
and lodged in her house. 

” I will see ; I will strive to satisfy you,” Jaime replied. “ I intend to star 
this very day for Puebla, and if I were not expecting a visit from Baron de 
Meriadec, I should set out at once.” 

“ It would be the first time I should see you leave us without regret.” 

Don Jaime smiled. At this moment they heard the outer gate opened, and 
a horse’s hoofs re echo in the saguan. 

“ Here is the baron,” said the adventurer, and he went to meet his visitor. 

You are welcome, my dear baron ; I was impatiently expecting you,” 

The young man understood that he was to retain his incognito. 

” I am really sorry at having kept you waiting,” he answered, “ but I have 
come at full speed from Puebla.” 


74 


The Rebel Chief. 


“ I know it,” Don Jaime remarked, with a smile; but let me introduce you 
to two lidies who desire to know you, and let us not remain any longer here.” 

*• Ladies,” Don Jaime said, as he entered, “ allow me to introduce to you 
Baron Charles de Meriadec. My dear baron, I have the honour to present to 
you Dona Maria, my sister, and Dona Carmen, my niece.” 

“ Now,” Don Jaime resumed gaily, “you are one of the family.” 

They sat down, and while taking refreshments conversed. 

“You can speak,” Don Jaime said ; “these ladies are aware of the frightful 
events at the hacienda.” 

“ More frightful than you suppose, I fancy,” the young man said ; “ and I 
am afraid to add to your grief.” 

“ We are intimately connected with Don Andres de la Cruz and his charming 
daughter,” Dona Maria observed. 

“ In that case, madam, forgive me if I have only bad news to impart to you.* 

“ Oh, speak, speak ! ” 

“ I have only a few words to say. The Juarists have seized Puebla.” 

“ I believed it to be still held by Miramon.” 

“The first business of the Juarists was, according to their invariab’e custom, 
to plunder and imprison the foreigners, and more especially the Spaniards, 
Some were even shot without the pretence of a trial ; the prisons are crowded. 
Terror reigns at Puebla.” 

“ Go on, my friend ; and Don Andres ?” 

“ Don Andres, as of course you are aware, is dangerously wounded.” 

“ Yes, I know it.” 

“ His state admits of but slight hopes ; the governor of the town, in spite of 
the representations of the notables and the entreaties of all honest people, had 
Don Andres arrested as convicted of high treason.” 

“ Why, this is frightful ! it is barbarity ! ” 

“ Don Andres was tried, and as he protested his innocence, in spite of all 
the efforts to make him condemn himself, he was subjected to torture.” 

T'o torture 1 ” the hearers exclaimed, with a start of horror. 

“Yes; this wounded, dying old man was suspended by the thumbs, and 
received the strappado on two different occasions.” 

“ Oh, this surpasses all 1 ” Don Jaime exclaimed ; “ of course he is dead ? ” 

“ Not yet — or, at least, he was not so on my departure from Puebla. He had 
not even been condemned, for his murderers are in no hurry.” 

“ And Dolores ! ” Dona Carmen exclaimed — “ poor Dolores ! ” 

“ Dona Dolores has disappeared ; she has been carried off.” 

“ Disappeared ! ” Don Jaime shouted ; and you still live to tell me ?” 

“ I did all I could to be killed,” he replied, simply, “ but did not succeed.” 

“ Ah, I will find her again,” the adventurer continued ; “ and the count ? ” 

“ He is in a state of despair, and is seeking her while I came to you.” 

“ You did well ; I shall not fail you. Then the count and Leo Carral have 
remained at Puebla ? ” 

“ Leo Carral alone. The count was obliged to fly in order to escape the 
pursuit of the Juarists ; every day his valet Ibarru goes to the town to arrange 
measures with the majordomo.” 

“ VYas it from your own impulse that you came to me? ” 

“ Yes; but I first consulted with the count.” 

“ You were right. Sister, prepare a suitable apartment for Dona Dolores*** 

“You will bring her back then ?” the two ladies exclaimed. 

“ Yes, or perish.” 

“Shall we be off?” the young man cried impaaently. 


The Surprise. - 


^ Of course you heard the names of Don Andres’ principal persecutory ?” 

'T', They are three in number ; the first is the first secretary, the tool of the 

3 new governor ; his name is Don Antonio de Cacerbas.” 

^ “ You have a lucky hand,” the adventurer said, ironically ; “ that is the man 

whose life you so pbilanthropically saved.” 

The young man uttered a roar like a tiger. “ I will kill him ! ” he said, hoarsely, 
jj' ^‘Then you hate him thoroughly?” asked Don Jaime. 

“ Even his death will not satisfy me. The man’s conduct is strange ; he 
I suddenly arrived in the town two days after the army; he only appeared, and 
I then went off again, leaving behind him a long train of blood.” 

“ VVe shall find him again. Who is the second? — Don Melchior, I suppose?” 
I “ Yes.” 

I And the third ? ” 

r “The third is a young man with a handsome face, soft voice, and noble 
j manners, more terrible than both the others.” 

'p “His name?” 

“ Don Diego Izaguirre.” 

i “ Good,” said the adventurer; “the affair is not so desperate as I fearedi } we 
i shall succeed.” 

y “ Let us go,” Don Jaime suddenly said ; “ time presses.” 

{ The young man took leave of the ladies. 

“ You will return, will you not, sir ? ” Dona Maria graciously asked him. 

^ “ You are a thousand times too kind, madam,” he answered; “ I shall con- 

cider it a happiness to avail myself of your delightful invitatiooj'' 




I 


^The four men galloped till night without exchanging a word. At sunset they 
reached a ruined rancho, standing like a sentry on the skirt of the road. The 
adventurer made a sign, and the riders pulled up their horses. A man came 
out of the rancho, looked at them without saying a word, and then went in 
again. Some minutes elapsed, the man reappeared, but this time he came from 
behind the rancho, and was leading two horses by the bridle. These horses 
were saddled. The adventurer and Dominique leapt down, removed their 
alforjas and pistols, placed them on the fresh horses, and remounted. Tlie 
man returned a second time with two other horses, which Loick and Lopez 
mounted. 

“ Forward ! ” Don Jaime cried. 

They set out once more. The silent and rapid ride recommenced. The 
night was gloomy, and the riders glided threug:: iLc “^«dows like, phantoms. 
All night they galloped thus At about five a.m. they changed horses again at a 
half-ruined rancho. 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE SURPRISE. 




The Rebel Chief. 


At about ten o’clock in the morning they saw the beams of Puebla glittering 
Nn the dazzling sunbeams. At about half a league from the town, they turned 
off and entered a scarce traced path that ran through a wood. For an hour 
they galloped after Don Jaime, and thus reached a rather extensive clearing. 

“ V/e have arrived,” said the adventurer, checking his horse. 

His companions leaped down, and prepared to unsaddle their houses. 

“ Wait,” he continued. “ Loick, you will go to your rancho, where the Courft 
de la Saulay and his servants are at present, and bring them here. You, 
Lopez, will fetch our provisions.” 

“ Are we two going to wait here, then ? ” Dominique asked. 

" No ; for I am going to Puebla.” 

“ Do you not fear being recognised ?” 

The adventurer smiled. Don Jaime and the vaquero were left alone. 

“ Follow me,” said Don Jaime. 

Dominique obeyed. They went under a euramada. The adventurer disturbed 
a pile of grass and dry leaves, and, drawing his machete, began digging up the 
ground. 

“ What are yon doing there ? ” asked Dominique. 

“ As you see, 1 am clearing the entrance of a vault ; come and help me,” he 
answered. 

Both set to work. Ere long appeared a large flat stone, in the centre of 
which a ring was fixed. When the stone was removed steps, clumsily cut in the 
rock, became visible. 

“ Come down,” said the adventurer. 

“You see one of my dens,” Don Jaimee said. “I possess several like 
this. This vault dates from the time of the Aztecs. You are aware that the 
province in which we now are wa^ anciently the sacred territory of the Mexican 
religion, and temples swarmed on it ; the numberless underground passages 
were used by the priests to go from one place to another without being dis- 
covered. At a later date they served as a refuge to the Indians persecuted by 
the Spanish conquerors. The one we are now in, which runs on one side to the 
pyramid of Cholula, and on the other to the very heart of Puebla, was on 
several occasions extremely useful to the Mexican insurgents during the War of 
Independence.” 

The vaquero had listened to this explanation with the most lively interest. 

“ Pardon me,” he said, “ but there is one thing I do not exactly understand.” 

« What is it ? ” 

“ You told me just now that if any one arrived by chance, we should be at 
once warned ? ” 

“ Yes, I did say so.” 

“ I do not at all understand how this can be.” 

“ Very simply. You see that gallery, do you not ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ It terminates with a sort of outlook about a yard square, covered with 
shrubs, and impossible to detect at the very entrance of the path by which it is 
alone possible to enter the wood; now, by a singular effect of acoustics, which 
I shall not at all attempt to exnlain, all sounds, of whatever nature they may 
be, even the slightest, which are produced near that outlook are immediately 
repeated here.” 

Oh ! in that case I am no longer alarmed.” 

“ Moreover, when the persons we expect arrive, we will stop up this hole.” 

While giving these explanations the adventurex had doffed a portion of his 
garments. 


Tae Surprise. 


11 


! 

f 


“ What are you doing ? ” Dominique asked. 

“ I am disguising myself, in order to go and find out how matters stand •t 
Puebla. I am going to put on a Camaldolin dress.” 

The vaquero had sat down, and was reflecting. 

“ What is the matter, Dominique ? You appear to me preoccupied and 


i sad.” 

I am, in truth, sad, master,” muttered the young man. 

“ Have I not told you that we shall find Dona Dolores ? ” he continued. 

“ Master,” said Dominique, as he rose, “ despise me, I am a coward.” 

You a coward, Dominique! Good God, you speak falsely.” 

“ No, master, I am telling the truth, I have betrayed my friend, and forgotten 
your recommendation. I love the betrothed wife of my friend,” he added 
feebly. 

The adventurer fixed his bright eyes on him. “ I was aware of it,” he said. 

Dominique started, and exclaimed in alarm, ” You knew it ? ” 

” I did,” Don Jaime continued. 

“ And you do not despise me ? ” 

“ Why should I ? Are we masters of our heart ? ” 

“But she is betrothed to the count, my friend.” 

“ And does she love you in return ? ” the adventurer asked. 

“ How can I tell ? ” he exclaimed ; “ I have hardly dared to confess it to 
myself.” 

There was a lengthened silence. While putting on his monastic garb, the 
adventurer examined the young man aside. “ The count does not love Dona 
Dolores,” he at length said. 

“ What i can it be possible ? ” he exclaimed ; “ but he is going to marry her,” 

“ He ought,” he said, laying a marked stress on the word. 

“ Did be not come to Mexico expressly for the purpose ? ” 

“ It is true.” 

“ Then you see he will marry her in that case.” 

“Your idea is absurd,” said the adventurer. “ Does a man ever know what 
he will do ? ” 

“ But since the misfortunes which have crushed Dona Dolores' family and 
herself, the count has been attempting impossibilities to save the young lady.” 

“ That proves that the count is a perfect gentleman and man of honour, that 
is all.” 

“ He loves her,” said Dominique. 

“ In that case I will turn the sentence — Dona Dolores does not love him.” 

“ Oh, if I could only persuade myself of that I might hope.” 

“ You are a baby. Now I am off, and do you wait for me here.” 

We will leave Dominique plunged in his reflections which, judging from the 
expression of his face, must have been agreeable, and follow Don Jaime on hist 
adventurous expedition. As the vault was situated about half a league from 
the town, Don Jaime had that distance to go underground. He walked on for 
about three parts of an hour, and at length reached the foot of a staircase con* 
sisting of fifteen steps. When he reached the top of the steps he sought for a 
spring, which he soon found, and pressed his finger on it. Immediately an 
enormous stone became detached from the wall, moved noiselessly on invisible 
hinges, and displayed a wide passage. Don Jaime stepped out and thrust back 
the stone, which immediately resumed its first position. 

Don Jaime looked searchingly round him. He was alone. The spot where 
lie was was a chapel of the cathedral of Puebla. The secret door through 
which the adventurer had passed opened on a corner of this chapel, and waa 


?8 


The Rebel Chief, 


concealed by a confessional. Don Jaime left the church and found himself on 
the Plaza Mayor. The adventurer pulled the hood over his eyes, crossed the 
square, and entered one of the streets that ran from it. 

Oliver thus reached the gate of a pretty house, standing in its own grounds. 
As this gate was only on the hasp, the adventurer pushed it, went in, .and closed 
ihe gate again after him. He advanced ; but instead of proceeding toward the 
house he struck into a side walk, and after a few turns found himself facing a 
door. 

On reaching this spot Oliver took a silver whistle, raised it to his lips, and 
produced a peculiarly modulated sound. Almost immediately a similar whistle 
was heard from the interior, the door opened, and a man appeared. Without 
speaking this man guided him through several apartments till he reached a 
door, which he opened to let the adventurer pass through. 

The room into which Oliver was thus introduced was elegantly furnished. 
A man was lying in this hammock fast asleep. It was Don Melchior de la Cruz, 
A knife with a curiously embossed silver hilt^ with a long blade sharp as a 
viper’s tongue, was placed on a low sandal-wood table within reach by the side 
of two magnificent revolvers. 

Even in his own house Don Melchior thought it right to be on his guard. 

The adventurer surveyed him for some minutes, then advanced softly to the 
hammock without producing the slightest noise. He took the revolvers, con- 
cealed them under his gown, seized the knife, and then gently touched the 
sleeper. Though the touch was so light, it sufficed to arouse Don Melchior. 

“ It is useless,” Oliver said to him, as he looked around ; “ the weapons are 
no longer there.” 

At the sound of this voice Don Melchior sprang up as if moved by a spring, 

“ Who are you ? ” he asked, in a voice choked by horror. 

“ Have you not recognised me yet ? ” the adventurer remarked. 

“ Who are you ? ” he repeated. 

“ Ah I you require a certainty ; well, look 1 ” and he threw back his hood on 
his shoulders. 

“ Don Adolfo ! ” the young man muttered. 

“ Why this surprise ? ” the adventurer continued. “ Did you not expect 
me ? ” 

“ Be it so,” at length said Don Melchior: “ After all it is better to come to 
an end once for all,” and he sat down again. 

“Very good,” said Oliver; “ I would sooner see you thus.” 

“ Then you have not come with the intention of assassinating me ? ” he asked 
ironically. 

“ Oh I what a bad thought that is of yours, my dear sir I Heaven preserve 
me from it 1 That is the hangman’s business.” 

“ The fact is,” he exclaimed, “ that you have entered my house as a male- 
factor.” 

“You repeat yourself, and that is clumsy ; if I have come to you in disguise 
it is because circumstances compelled me to take the precaution, that is all." 
Suddenly changing his tone, he added. “ By-the-bye, are you satisfied with 
Juarez ? has he rewarded your treachery handsomely ? I have heard say that 
he is a very greedy and mean Indian.” 

Did you enter my house to talk such trash to me ?” asked Don Melchior. 

The adventurer rose, drew a revolver, stepped forward, and regarding him 
with a look of indescribable contempt, shouted, in a voice of thunder — 

“ No, scoundrel, I have come to blow out your brains if you refuse to reveal 
to me what you have done with your sister Dona Dolores,” 




CHAPTER XXI. 

THE PRISONERS. 

For some seconds there was a silence, pregnant with menace. 

“ Ah, ah, ah 1 ” said Don Melchior, bursting into a hoarse laugh, and sinking 
again on the border of the hammock, “ was I so wrong in saying to you, my 
dear sir, that you entered my house for the purpose of assassinating me ? ” 

“ Well, no,” exclaimed the adventurer, in a loud voice ; “ no, I repeat, I will 
not kill you, for you are not worthy to die by the hands of an honest man ; but 
1 will compel you to confess the truth to me.” ^ 

“ Try it,” said the young man, with a disdainful shrug of the shoulders. 

Then carelessly rolling in his fingers a dainty husk cigarette, he said — • 

“ Come, I am waiting for you.” 

“Good! this is what I propose to you. You are my prisoner : well, I will 
tfestore vou to liberty if you will deliver Dona Dolores into the -hands of Count 
de la Saulay, her cousin.” 

“ Hum 1 this is serious : remember that I am my sister’s legal guardian.” 

“ How her guardian ? ” 

“ Yes, since our father is dead.” 

“ Don Andres de la Cruz dead ? ” the adventurer exclaimed, leaping up. 

“ Alas ! yes,” the young man replied, hypocritically raising his eyes to 
heaven ; “ we had the grief of losing him the night before last, and he was 
buried yesterday morning.” 

There was a silence, during which Oliver walked up and down the room. 

“ Without any further circumlocution,” said the adventurer, “ will you restore 
your sister her liberty ? ” 

“ No ! ” Melchior replied, resolutely. 

“ Good,” the adventurer coldly remarked ; “ in that case, all the worse for you.” 

At this moment the door opened, and a tall and elegantly dressed young man 
entered the room. 

“ Eh ! ” said Don Melchior to himself ; “ things may turn out differently.” 

The young man bowed politely, and walked up to the master of the house; 
with whom he shook hands. 

“ 1 am disturbing you ? ” he said, with a careless glance at the monk. 

“ On the contrary'; but by what chance do I see you at this hour?” 

I have come to bring you good news. Count de la Saulay is in our power ; 
but, as he is a Frenchman, the general has decided to send him, under a good 
escort, to our most illustrious president. You are intrusted with the command 
of this escort.” 

“ Demonios I ” Don Melchior exclaimed, triumphantly, “you are a good 
triend. But now it is my turn. This man is no other than the adventurer 
called Don Adolfo, Don Olivero, Don Jaime, or by a hundred names, who has 
so long been sought in vain.” 

“ Can it be possible ? ” Don Diego exclaimed. 

It is true,” Don Adolfo said. 


8o 


The Rebel Chief. 


" Within an hour you will be dead — shot like a traitor and bandit 1 ^ Melchior 
exclaimed. 

Don Adolfo shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. 

“It is evident,” Don Diego exclaimed, “ that this man will be shot; but he 
declares that he is a Frenchman.” 

All the demons belong to that accursed race ! ” Don Melchior exclaimed. 

Well, really I cannot tell you exactly ; as regards this man, as he is a daring 
fellow, and you might be considerably embarrassed by him, I will send him to 
the president under a separate escort.” 

No, no, if you wish to do me a service, let me take him with me; do not 
be alarmed, I will take such precautions.” 

At this moment a footman came in, and announced that the escort was waiting. 

“Very good,” said Melchior, “ let us be off.” 

The servant gave his master a machete, a brace of pistols, and a zarape, and 
buckled on his spurs. 

“ Now we can start,” said Don Melchior. 

“ Come,” said Don Diego, “ Senor Don Adolfo be kind enough to go first.” 

The adventurer obeyed without a word. Twenty-five soldiers, attired in a 
rather fantastic uniform, mostly in rags, were waiting in the street. 

These men were all well mounted and armed. In the midst of them were the 
Count de la Saulay. A smile of joy lit up Don Melchior’s face at the sight of 
this gentleman. A horse was prepared for Don Adolfo. At a sign from Don 
Diego he mounted, and placed himself of his own accord by the side of the count. 

“ Now, my friend,” said Don Diego, “ a pleasant journey to you.” 

“ Good-bye then,” said Melchior, and the escort set out. 

Don Melchior rode a few yards ahead of his troop ; his demeanour was cold 
and sedate, and he made vain efforts to restrain the joy he experienced. After 
they had ridden some distance from the town, the lieutenant who commanded 
the escort approached Don Melchior. 

“ Our men are fatigued,” he said to him ; “ it is time to think about camping.” 

“ I am willing to do so,” the other replied, “ provided the spot is secure.” 

“ I know,” the lieutenant continued, “ a deserted rancho.” 

“ Let us go there, then.” 

The lieutenant acted as guide, and the soldiers soon entered a path scarce 
traced through a very thick wood, and at the end of about three-quarters of an 
hour reached a large clearing, in the middle of which stood the rancho 
announced. 

Leaping from his horse Don Melchior entered the rancho, in order to assure 
himself of the condition it was in. But he had hardly set his foot in the interior, 
ere he was suddenly seized, rolled in a zarape, and bound and gagged. 

At the end of some minutes he heard a clanking of sabres, and a regular 
sound of footsteps outside the rancho ; the soldiers were going away, without 
paying any attention to him. 

Almost at the same moment he was seized by the feet and shoulders, lifted 
up, and carried off. After a few rapid steps, it seemed to him as if his bearers 
were taking him down steps that entered the ground ; then, after about ten 
minutes’ march he was softly laid on a bed, composed of furs as he supposed, 
and left alone. An utter silence prevailed around the prisoner. At length a 
slight noise became audible, this noise gradually increased, and soon became 
loud ; it resembled the walk of several persons whose footsteps grated on 
sand. 

“ Set the prisoner at liberty,” a voice said. 

His bonds were at once unfastened, and the gag and handkerchief removed. 


Tile Prisoners, 


Si 


Don Melchior leaped on his feet and looked around him. The spot where he 
found himself was the top of a rather lofty hill in the centre of an immense 
plain. The night was dark, and a little to the right in the distance gleamed 
like so many stars the lights of the houses in Puebla. The young man formed 
the centre of a rather large group, drawn up in a circle round him. These men 
were masked, each of them held in his right hand a torch of ocote-wood, whose 
flame, agitated by the wind, threw a blood-red hue over the country, and 
imparted to it a fantastic appearance. 

“ Don Melchior de la Cruz,” said a man, “ do you know where you are, and 
in whose presence ? ” 

“ I know it,” he replied, through his clenched teeth. 

“ Do you recognise the authority of the men by whom you are surrounded ? ” 

“ Yes,^ they have might on their side ; any attempt at resistance would be 
folly.” 

“ No, it is not for that reason that you come under the authority of these 
men, and you are perfectly aware of the fact ; but because you voluntarily con- 
nected yourself with them by a compact.” 

Don Melchior shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. 

“ Why should I attempt a useless defence ?” he said ; “for am I not condemned 
Ibeforehand ? ” 

“ Don Melchior,” continued the masked man, in a hard and deeply marked 
voice, “it is neither as parricide nor as fratricide nor as robber that you 
appear before this supreme tribunal, I repeat to you, but as a traitor to your 
country, I call on you to defend yourself.” 

“ And I refuse to do so,” he replied in a firm voice, 

“ Very good,” the masked man continued coldly ; then, planting his torch 
in the ground, he turned to the spectators, “ Brothers,” he said, “ what punish- 
ment has this man deserved ?” 

“ Death ! ” the masked man answered, in a hollow voice. 

Don Melchior was not at all affected. 

“ You are condemned to death,” the man continued who had hitherto spoken, 

“ In what way shall I die ?” the young man asked carelessly. 

By the rope.” 

“ That death as soon as another,” he said , with an ironical smile. 

“ We do not arrogate the right of killing the soul with the body,” the masked 
man continued ; “ a priest will hear the confession of your fauhts.” 

“ Thanks,” the young man said, laconically. 

The masked man stood for a second, as if expecting that Don Melchior 
would address another request to him ; but seeing that' he continued to main- 
tain silence he took up his torch again, fell back two paces, waved it thrice, 
and extinguished it beneath his foot. All the other torches were put out at the 
same moment. A slight rustling of dry leaves and broken branches was heard, 
and Don Melchior found himself alone. Despite all his courage and resolution 
Don Melchior suffered an awful agony. At the root of every hair, which stood 
on end with terror, gathered a drop of cold perspiration. His features were 
frightfully contracted, and a livid and earthly pallor covered his face. At this 
moment a hand was gently laid on his shoulder. He started as if he had 
received an electric shock, and sharply raised his head. A monk. was standing 
before n’m, with his hood pulled down over his face, 

“ Ah ! ” he said, rising, “ here is the priest.” 

“ Yes,” said the monk, in a low voice ; “ kneel down, my son.” 

The young man started at the sound of this voice, which he fancied he re- 
cognised, Don Melchior mechanically obeyed. These tWO men thus kneeling 


82 


Tht Rebel Chief. 


#n the desert crest of this hill, faintly lit up by the feeble and flickering light of 
ihe lanterns, offered a strange and striking spectacle. 

“ We are watched,” said the monk. “ Display no agitation ; keep your 
nerves quiet, and listen to me. We have not a moment to lose. Do you recog- 
nise me ? ” 

“Yes,” Don Melchior said, faintly ; “ you are Don Antonio de Cacerbas.” 

“ Dressed in the garb I am now wearing,” Don Antonio continued ; “ I was 
on the point of entering Puebla, when I was suddenly surrounded by masked 
men, who asked me whether I was in orders. On my affirmative reply these 
men carried me off with them, and brought me here. I witnessed your inai 
while shuddering with terror for myself. Have you weapons?” 

“ No. But of what use are weapons against so many ? ” 

“ To fall bravely, instead of being ignominiously hung.” 

“ That is true,” the young man exclaimed. 

“ Silence, unhappy man I ” Don Antonio said, sharply. “ Take this revolver 
and this dagger. I have the same for myself.” 

“ All right,” he said, clutching the weapons to his chest. 

“Good 1 that is how I wished you to feel. Remember this : the horses are 
waiting ready saddled down there on the right, at the foot of the hill. If we 
succeed in reaching them we are saved.” 

“ Whatever happens, thanks. If heaven decrees that we escape ” 

“ Promise nothing,” Don Antonio said ; “ there will be time hereafter to 
settle our accounts.” 

The monk gave his penitent absolution. A few minutes elapsed. At length 
Don Melchior arose with a firm and assured countenance. The masked men 
suddenly reappeared, and once more crowned the top of the hill. . The one who 
hitherto had alone spoken approached the condemned man. 

“ Are you ready ? ” the stranger asked. 

“ I am,” Don Melchior coldly replied. 

“ Prepare the gallows, and light the torches ! ” the masked man ordered. 

There was a great movement in the crowd, and a momentary disorder. The 
members were so convinced that flight was impossible that for tv/o or three 
minutes they relaxed their watchfulness. Don Melchior and his friend took 
advantage of this moment of forgetfulness. 

“ Come ! ” Don Antonio said, hurling to the earth the nearest man, 

“ All right ! ” Don Melchior boldly replied, as he cocked his revolver. 

They ru^phed head foremost into the midst of the conspirators, striking right 
and left, and forcing a passage. Like most desperate actions, this one suc- 
ceeded through its sheer madness. There was a frightful struggle for some 
minutes between the members, who were taken off their guard. Then the gallop 
of horses became audible, and a mocking voice shouted in the distance— 

“ Farewell for the present ! ” 

Don Melchior and Don Antonio were galloping along the Puebla road. 

“ Stop ! ” Don Adolfo shouted to the men who were running to their horses^ 
** Let them fly. Don Melchior is condemned — his death is certain. But,” he 
added, “ who can that accursed monk be ? ” 

Leo Carral, the majordomo, leant over his ear. 

“I recognised the monk,” he said ; “ he was Don Antonio de Cacerbas** 

“ Ah 1 ” said Don Jaime ; “ that man again 1 ” 



CHAPTER XXII, 


THE SUPPER. 

One evening when the count was playing a game of chess with Dominique 
for the sake of killing time, there was a violent knocking at the street door. 

“ Who the deuce can come at this hour ? ” they both exclaimed. 

“ It is past midnight,” Dominique said. 

*‘If it is not Oliver,” the count remarked, I cannot think who it is.” 

“ It is he, of course,” Dominique added. 

At this moment the room door was opened, and Don Jaime entered. 

Good evening, gentlemen,” he said ; “ you did not expect me ? ” 

We always expect you, my friend.” 

“Thanks: with your permission,” he added, “get me some supper, if you 
please. Master Raimbaut.” 

The latter bowed and left the room. 

Don Jaime threw his hat on a table, and sat down on a chair, 

“ Ouf ! ” he said ; “ I am dying of hunger, my friends.” 

The young men examined the adventurer with surprise. 

Raihabaut brought in a ready-laid table, which he placed before Don Adolfo* 

** By Jove, gentlemen ! ’’ the adventurer said, gaily, “ Master Raimbaut has had 
die charming attention to lay covers for three. I beg you to come to table.’^ 

“ Most wil ingly,*’ they replied, as they took the seat by his side. 

The meal began ; Don Adolfo ate with good appetite while talking with a humour 
and quickness they had never noticed before. 

“ Really, gentlemen,” Don Adolfo said as he uncorked a bottle of champagne, “ of 
bU meals, in my opinion supper is the best. Permit me,” he continued, “ to drink 
your health in this wine, one of the most delicious productions of your country.''* 
And after hob-nobbing, he emptied the glass at one draught. 7 he bottles rapidly 
succeeded each other, for the glasses were no sooner filled than emptied. They soon 
began to grow exe ted. Then they lit cigars, and attacked the liqueurs. 

After a pause, the count observed — 

“ If you will listen, I will relate to you an adventure or a history tha-t I heard this 
very day.” 

“ Why not tell us your own history ? It must be filled with touching events.” 

“ Well, you are mistaken, count,” Oliver answered, simply. “ Nothing can be less 
touching than what you are pleased to call my history ; it is much the same as that 
of all smugglers. Hence arise combats, which sometimes, though rarely, thank 
Heaven ! become bloodthirsty. Such is substantially the^ history you ask of me, 
my dear count.” 

“ I do not press you, dear Don Adolfo,” the count answered with a smile. 

“ In that case,” Dominique said, “ you aie at liberty to begin your history.** 

“ Attention, gentlemen,” he said. ” I am about to begin. I must before all 
claim your indulgence for certain gaps, and also for some obscure points which will 
be found in my narrative. I must again remark that 1 am merely repeating wluu 
was told me.” 


TM R&dd Chiejt 


••*Beg-in, begin, they said. 

There is another difficulty in the narrative,” he continued imperturbably; fg 
that I am utterly ignorant in what country it occurred ; all that I fancy I can be certain 
of is, that it took pla^;e in the Old World. Well, then, let us suppose, if you please, 
that the scene of this truthful history is laid in Germany — there was, I was saying, 
a rich and powerful family. You know, of course, that the German nobility are the 
oldest in the world. Now, the Prince of Opp nheim-Schleswig, we will call him, 
had two sons nearly of the same age ; both were handsome and endowed with 
brilliant intellects, these two young gentiemen had been educated with the utmost 
care. It is not the same in Germany as in America, for there the power of the head 
of the family is very extensive. There is something truly patriarchal in the way in 
which rhe internal discipline of the household is maintained. The first son was gentle, 
affable, obliging, earnest, attached to his duties, and extremely attached to the honour 
of his name. The second displayed very different tastes, although he was very 
proud and punctilious ; still, he did not fear to compromise the respect he owed his 
name in the lowest resorts and amongst the worst company. The prince bewailed 
the debauchery of his younger son, and several times addressed severe remonstrances 
to him. d he young man listened to his father lespectfully, prom sed amendment, 
and went on the same as before. France declared war against Germany. The 
Prince of Oppenheim was one of the first to obey the orders of the emperor, and place 
himself under his banner ; his sons accompanied him. A few days after his arrival 
at the cam^ the prince was intrusted with a reconnaissance by the general-in-chief ; 
there was a sharp skirmish with the enemy’s foragers, and, in the height of the 
action, the prince fell from his horse. His friends gathered around him. He died ; he 
was shot from behind. 

“ Give me some drink,” said Don Adolfo to Dominique. 

The latter poured him out a glass of punch ; he then resumed. 

“ The prince’s two sons were some distance away when this c itastrophe occurred ; 
they galloped up at once, but only found their father’s bleeding corpse. The sorrow 
of the two young men was immense. In spite of the most minute research, it was 
impossible to discover how the prince could have been struck from behind: this always 
remained a mystery. The young men left the army and returned home : the elder 
had assumed the title of prince and had become head of the family, and the younger 
was completely dependent on his brother, who gave up to him his mother’s fortune, 
which was very considerable, left him perfectly his own master, and authorised him 
to take the title of marquis,” 

“ Of duke, you mean,’’ the count interrupted, 

“ That is true,” Don Adolfo continued, “ since he was a prince; but yoa know 
that we republicans,” he added, “ are but little used to these pompous titles.” 

“ Go on,” Dominique said carelessly. 

Don Adolfo continued : “ The duke realised his fortune, bade farewell to his brother, 
and started for Vienna. The duke now set no bounds to his licentiousness, and 
matters attained such a point that the prince was at length compelled to interfere 
seriously, and give his brother an order to leave the kingdom. Several years elapsed 
during which the duke travelled. Writing but rarely to t is eider brother, he, however, 
spoke of the radical reformation of his conduct. Whether he believed in these 
protestations or not, the prince thought he could not refrain from announcing to his 
brother thathe was on the point of marrying anoble, young, lovely, and rich heiress, tliat 
the marriage was to take place immediately. The duke arrived on the very eve cl the 
marriage. His brother received him very well, and gave him apartments in his palace. 

It was intended to represent a species ol tournament : the first nobles of the '' 
surrounding country eagerly offered their assistance to the prince, d'hc prince’s 
young wife, who was in an advanced state of pregnancy, impelled by one of tho^ 


The Supper, 


presentiments which come from the heart, and never deceive, tried in vain to prevent 
her husband from entering the lists. The duke joined his sister-in-law in urging his 
brother to abstain fiorn appearing at the tournament otherwise than as a spectator ; 
but the prince was immovable in his resolution. An hour later he was brought 
back dying. By an extraordinary accident, an unheard-of fatality, the unfortunate 
prince had met with dea;h at the spot where he should only have found pleasure. 
The duke displayed extreme sorrow at the frightful death of his brother. The 
prince’s will was immediately opened ; he appointed his brother sole heir to all his 
property, unless the princess gave birth to a son, in which case this son would 
inherit his father’s fortune and titles. 

“On learning her husband’s death, the princess was delivered of a daughter. 
The second clause of the will being thus annulled, the duke assume ! the title of 
prince. T he princess, in spite of the most enticing offers her brother-in-law made 
her, refused to continue to reside in the palace. 

“ The princess had a brother, at that time a young man of two-and-twenty 
at the most. This brother, whom we will call Oscar, if you like, felt a sincere 
attachment for his sister ; he loved her for all that she had suffered, and was 
the first to urge her to leave the palace of her defunct husband and return to 
her family. Oscar felt a strong repulsion for the prince. Still he did not break 
off all relations with him ; he visited him now and then. These interviews, 
always cold and constrained on the part of the young man, were cordial and 
eager on that of the prince. The princess, who had retired to her family, 
brought up her daughter far from the world. On her husband’s death she put 
on mourning, which she has not left off since. The prince, now a made man, 
had reflected that he was the last of his race, and that it was urgent, 
if he did not wish the family titles and estates to pass to distant collaterals, to 
have an heir to his name ; and about eight years after his brother’s death he 
married the daughter of one of the noblest houses of the confederation. 
Nothing could be more suitable than this alliance ; the lady was young, fair, 
and connected by marriage to the reigning family of Hapsburg. The prince, 
consequently, attached great importaricc to this union, and hurried on its com- 
pletion. While th’s was occurring, Count Oscar was obliged by the settlement 
of some important business to leave home. The young man bade farewell to 
his sister, got into a post-chaise, and set out. On the next day but one, at 
about eight o’clock in the evening, he arrived at the town of Bruneck. 

“ Bruneck is a very pretty little Tyrolese town, built on the right bank of the 
Rienz. Count Oscar remarked with surprise on entering the town that the 
greatest agitation prevailed there. So soon as the count had entered his house 
he inquired the cause of this extraordinary excitement. This is what he 
learned : Tyrol is an excessively mountainous country. Most of these moun- 
tains serve as lurking-places for numerous bands of malefactors, whose sole 
occupation is to plunder travellers. For some years a bandit chief, at the head 
of a considerable band of resolute and well-disciplined men, had desolated the 
country, attacking travellers and burning and plundering the villages. 

“ But what force had been unable to effect treachery at last accomplished. 
One of the associates of Red Arm, a bandit chief, dissatisfied with the share 
given him in a rich booty made a few days previously, resolved to take 
vengeance by betraying him. 

“ A week later Red Arm was surprised and made prisoner. 

“ The few men who escaped soon fell in their turn into the hands of the 
soldiers. 

“ The trial of the bandits was not a long one ; they had been condemned to 
death, and executed immediately. The chief and two others were to be executed 


86 


The Rebel Chief, 


on the morrow, and that was the reason why the town of Bruneck was in such 
a state of excitement. 

“ The count attached but slight importance to the news, and prepared to go 
to bed. 

“Just as he was entering his bedroom a servant appeared. 

** ‘ What is it ? ’ Count Oscar asked. 

** ‘ Pardon, my lord! ’the servant replied, ‘but a person desires to speak to you. 

“ ‘ Speak to me at this hour ? ’ he said, in surprise ; ‘it is impossible. Tell 
the man to return to-morrow.’ 

“ ‘ I told him so, and he replied that to-morrow would be too late.* 

“ ‘ This is extraordinary ! Who is the man ? ’ 

“ ‘ A priest, my lord ; and what he has to tell your excellency is most serious. 

“ The young man, greatly perplexed, returned to the dining-room. 

“ A priest was standing in the centre of the room. He was a very aged man, 
his hair white as snow. 

“ The count bowed to him respectfully, and begged him to be seated. 

“ ‘ Excuse me, my lord,’ he replied with a bow, ‘ I am the prison chaplain i 
you have doubtless heard of the arrest of certain malefactors ? ’ 

“ ‘ Yes, sir : same vague information on the subject has been given me.’ 

“ ‘ Several of these unhappy men,’ he continued, ‘ have already endured their 
fate. The most guilty, their chief, is about to undergo his to-morrow.’ 

“ ‘ I am awar^ of it.’ 

“ ‘ This man,’ the chaplain went on, ‘ on the point of appearing before God, 
his supreme judge, to whom he will hav’^e a terrible account to render, has felt., 
owing to my efforts to lead him to repentance, remorse enter his heart. He at 
once sent for me, and begged me to go to you, my lord.’ 

“ ‘ To me ! ’ cried the young man ; ‘ what can there be in common between us ? ’ 

*“ I do not know, my lord, but he implores you to proceed to his dungeon.’ 

** ‘ What you say confounds me, sir ; this man is an utter stranger to me.’ 

“ ‘ He will doubtless explain this to you, my lord ; but I advise you to consent 
to the interview this man implores,’ the priest answered without any hesitation. 
‘ For many years I have been a prison chaplain, and have seen many criminals 
die. Men do not speak falsely in the presence of death.’ 

The young man’s determination was soon formed. He wrapped himself in 
a cloak and set out for the prison, accompanied by the priest. On arriving 
there they were immediately introduced to the prisoner, who, after the 
first salutations had been exchanged, hastened to make known to them his motive 
for requesting them to come to him at this supreme moment. 

“ ‘ Gentlemen,’ he said in a firm voice, ‘ in a few short hours I shall have 
satisfied human justice. Since the day I begnn the implacable struggle which I 
have carried on against society, I have committed many crimes, have been the 
accomplice of an incalculable number of odious actions. The sentence passed 
on me is just, but I think it my duty to confess to you with the greatest sin- 
cerity and deepest humility that I repent of my crimes.’ 

“ ‘ Good, my son,’ the chaplain said gently; ‘take refuge in God.’ 

‘ I should like at this supreme moment,’ said Red Arm, ‘ to repair the evil 
I have done. That is impossible; but among these crimes there is one — which 
it is true I cannot fully repair, but whose effects I hope to neutralise by reveal- 
ing to you its sinister incidents. God, by unexpectedly bringing Count Oscar 
to this town, doubtless wished to force me to this expiation. Gentlemen, in 
requesting you to come to me, I wish to procure the person most interested in 
my narrative, the indispensable witnesses who will enable human justice to 
punish the cnminal hereafter. Hence, gentlemen, take note of my words,* 


The Supper. 


87 


** Hereupon Red Arm selected from among the papers that crowded his 
table a rather large bundle, which he opened and placed before him. 

“ ‘ Though eight years have elapsed,’ he said, ‘ since the period when these 
events happened, they have remained so fresh in my mind that as soon as I 
heard of the arrival of Count Oscar, a few hours sufficed me to write a detailed 
account of them. I am about to read to you, gentlemen, this frightful history, 
after which each of you will attach his signature beneath mine at the end of this 
manuscript. I in all this have only been the paid accomplice and the instru- 
ment employed to strike the victim.’ 

“ ‘ This precaution is very good,’ the prison director said : ‘ we will sign.’ 

“ ‘ Thanks, gentlemen,’ the count remarked, ‘ though I am as ignorant as 
yourselves of the facts which are about to be revealed.’ 

“ ‘ You shall judge soon, my lord,’ the condemned man said, and immediately 
began reading. 

“ This reading lasted nearly two hours. The result of the collected facts was 
this : first, that when the Prince of Oppenheim Schleswig was killed, the bullet 
came from the gun of Red Arm, who was concealed in a thicket, and paid by 
the prince’s younger son to commit this parricide. After a parricide, a fratri- 
cide was nothing to him, and he executed it with a Machiavellism full of 
atrocious precautions. Other crimes, more awful still were it possible, were 
recorded with a truth of detail so striking, and supported by such undeniable 
proofs, that the witnesses summoned by the condemned criminal asked them- 
selves, with horror, if it were possible that such an atrocious monster could 
exist. The princess had been delivered — not of a daughter as everybody 
believed — ^but of twins, of whom the boy was carried off. 

“ During the reading, the count fancied himself suffering from a horrible 
nightmare. 

“ Red Arm rose, walked up to the count, and said — ‘ My lord, take this 
manuscript, it is now yours.’ 

“ The count mechanically took the manuscript which was offered 

him. 

“ ‘ I can understand your astonishment and horror, sir,’ the condemned man 
continued ; ‘ these things are so terrible that in spite of these stamps of truth, 
the exceptional circumstances under which they were written, and the authority 
of the persons who have signed the statement after hearing it read, it runs the 
risk of being doubted ; hence I wish to protect you from all suspicion of impos- 
ture, my lord, by adding to this document some undeniable proofs,’ 

“ ‘ Do you possess them ?’ the count said, with a start. 

“ ‘ Be good enough to open this portfolio : it contains twenty odd letters from 
your brother-in-law.’ 

“ ‘ This is strange 1 ’ the count exclaimed, turning to Red Arm. 

“ ‘ I understand you,’ answered the convict, ‘ you are asking yourself how it 
is that, holding letters so compromising to the Prince of Oppenheim, he did not 
employ the power he possesses to put me out of the way.’ 

“ ‘ In truth,’ the count replied, ‘the pjrince, my brother-in-law, is a man of 
extreme prudence.’ 

“ ‘ Certainly ; and he would not have failed to employ the most expeditious 
means in succeeding ; but the prince was ignorant that these proofs remained 
in my possession.’ 

“ ‘ By t for what object did you keep these letters ? ’ 

“ * " he very simple one of employing them against him ; so as to compel him 
by the fear of a revelation to supply me with the sums 1 might require when 1 
felt inclined to give up my perilous career,’ 


88 


T'Aff Rebel Chief, 


* I thank you,’ the count replied warmly; ‘but cannot I do anything for 
you in your present extremity, as a recognition of so great a service ? ’ 

“ ‘ Alas, my lord ! ’ said Red Arm, lowering his voice; ‘ it is too late now* 
You can do nothing for me;’ 

“ ‘ You are mistaken,’ he answered quickly. * I can do something.* 

‘ Are you speaking the truth ? ’ asked the convict. 

‘ Silence ! ’ said the count ; ‘ what interest can I have in deceiving you, when, 
on the contrary, my most eager desire is to prove my gratitude to you.’ 

“ ‘ That is true ; but in what way ? ’ 

“ ‘ Listen to me. This ring I wear contains a poison of great subtlety. Ya*" 
have only to open the locket and inhale the contents to fall dead. Do you 
accept it ? ’ 

“ ‘ Certainly 1 * he exclaimed, and quickly concealed it in his bosom. 

“ They then went up to the other persons, who, on seeing the conversation 
ended, at once broke off their own. 

“ ‘ Gentlemen,’ said Red Arm, * I thank you sincerely for having deigned to 
be present at the revelation which my conscience ordered me to make. Now I 
feel tranquil. Only a few moments separate me from death. Would it be 
asking too much to let me pass these few moments with my two comrades?' 

“ ‘ I see no inconvenience of granting you this request,’ the governor at 
length said. ‘ I will give orders that your companions be brought here.’ 

“ ‘ Thanks, sir I ’ Red Arm gratefully exclaimed. 

“ By the governor’s order, the sentinel summoned the gaoler, who ran up 
and opened the dungeon. 

“ Immediately the count reached home he gave orders for his departure. But 
he was obliged to remain ten hours longer in the town. It was impossible to 
procure horses before three o’clock in the afternoon. 

“ He profited by this hindrance to take a little rest. He soon fell into so 
deep a sleep that he did not even hear the furious cries and vociferations of the 
crowd assembled in the square, on seeing that, instead of three criminals, only 
three corpses were offered to them. At the moment when the gaoler and 
officials entered the dungeon to lead the condemned men to the gallows, they 
only found three corpses. When the count woke, all was over, and the town 
had resumed its accustomed appearance. The count inquired after his carriage, 
and directed his postilion to take the road to Vienna. 

“ The count had reflected : Only one person was powerful enough to render 
him thorough and prompt justice, and that person was the emperor. Two 
days after his arrival in Vienna his Imperial Majesty granted him an audience 
which was fixed at noon. A chamberlain on duty awaited him, and at 
once introduced him to his majesty. The reception granted the count was most 
affable. The audience lasted nearly four hours; no one ever learned what passed 
between the sovereign and the subject. The last sentence of this confidential 
interview was alone heard. 

“ ‘ I believe it will be better,’ his majesty said, ‘ to act on behalf of the nobility ; 
every effort must be made at any cost to avoid the frightful scandal which the 
publicity of so horrible an affair would arouse ; my support will never fail you.* 

“ The count returned then to his castle, provided with a blank signature of 
his majesty, which gave him the most extensive powers to carry out his 
vengeance. He immediately set to work in search of his nephew, and for this 
search the papers which Red Arm had handed him contained precious in- 
formation. His search was long, and is still going on ; still the situation is 
beginning to grow clearer, and he has been so fortunate as to find his nephew 
again. Since this discovery he has never let the young man out of his sight, 


The Supper » 


89 


although the latter is ignorant to this day of the sacred bonds which attach 
him to the man who has brought him up. The count has kept this secret even 
from his sister, not wishing to reveal it to her till he can announce at the same 
time that justice has at length been done.” 

After uttering the last words the adventurer stopped. He left his chair and 
began walking up and down the room, every now and then casting searching 
glances at his two companions. Dominique, thrown back in his butacca, with 
his eyes half closed, was mechanically smoking his pipe. 

“ Don Adolfo,” suddenly said Count de la Saulay, as he raised his head and 
looked him full in the face, “ your story is ended then?” 

“ Yes,” the adventurer answered, laconically. 

My friend,” the count said, “the first friendly face I met on landing in 
America was yours. It is not possible to become so connected with a man 
without studying his character a little, which I have done with you, and you 
doubtless have done with me. Now I believe that I know you intimately 
enough, my friend, to feel convinced that you did not come suddenly to our 
house to-night with the mere object of supping. Moreover, I ask myself, why 
you, so chary of your words, and especially of your secrets, have told us this 
story, very interesting, I allow, but which, apparently, does not concern us in 
any way ? To this I answer that if you thus came to ask of us a supper, which 
yon could very well have done without, you came expressly to tell us this narra- 
tive.” 

“ That is evident,” said Dominique. 

“ Well, yes ; all you have supposed is true — the supper was only a pretext.” 

** Very good,” said Dominique, joyously ; “ that, at any rate, is being frank.” 

“ Still, I confess,” the adventurer continued sadly, “ that I now hesitate 
because I am afraid.” 

“ You afraid ? and of what P ” the two young men exclaimed. 

“ I am afraid, because this long history must shortly have its conclusion ; 
because this conclusion must be terrible ; and though when I came here I 
intended to ask your assistance, I have since reflected. Pray, my friends, for- 
get all you have heard — it is only a story told after drinking.” 

“ No, on my honour, Don Adolfo,” the count exclaimed, energetically, “ it 
shall not be so, I swear, and I speak for myself and Dominique. I know not 
what mysterious interest you have in this affair. I do not even wish to discover 
the motives that lead you to act, but I repeat to you, if you were to send us 
away when you are going to incur a great danger, which we might, perhaps, 
protect you from by sharing it with you, it would be a proof to us that you 
entertain neither esteem nor friendship for us. From the moment the matter 
concerns you it concerns us, and we have the right to mix ourselves up in it.” 

“ Well, be it so, my friends,” said the adventurer, at the end of a moment; 
“since you insist, we will act in concert. You will aid me in what I have 
undertaken, and 1 hope that we shall succeed.” 

“ I feel convinced of it,” said the count. 

“ Let us go then,” said Dominique, rising from his seat. 

“ Not yet ; but the moment is at hand. I swear to you that you will not have 
tong to wait. Now, one last toast, and good-bye. Ah 1 I forgot ; in the event 
of my not being able to come to you myself, this is the signal — one and two 
make three. It is very simple, and you will remember it.” 

Five minutes later he had left the house. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


AN HONEST MAN. 

It was about two in the afternoon. There was not a breath of air, the country 
seemed to have fallen asleep under the weight of a leaden sun. At a spot where 
the road separated into several branches, and formed a species of square, stood 
a small house with white walls and Italian roof, whose door was ornamented by 
a portello of coarsely planed tree trunks, supported by a balcony of trellis work 
which enclosed it like a cage. This cottage was a venta. Several horses were 
tied by the bridles to the portello. Here and there several men, rolled up in 
their zarapes, with theirheads in the shade and their feet in the sun, were sleeping. 

These men were guerilleros : a sentry half asleep, leaning on his lance, and 
with his back against the wall, was supposed to be watching the arms of the. 
cuadrilla, which were piled. Under the portello a man seated in a hammock was 
desperately strumming a jarabe. A fat little man, with grey eyes full of motion, 
and a mocking countenance, came out of the venta and approached the 
hammock. 

“ Senor Don Felipe,” he said, with a respectful bow, “ will you not dine ? ” 

“ I will not dine yet, for I am expecting some one.” 

That is certainly very unfortunate, Senor Colonel Don Felipe,” the ventero 
remarked ; “ a dinner that 1 have prepared with so much care will be entirely 
spoiled.” 

“ That would be a misfortune. Well, lay the table, I have waited long 
enough.” 

The landlord bowed, and at once retired. In the meanwhile the guerillero had 
made up his mind to leave his hammock. After rolling and lighting a husk 
cigarette, he carelessly walked a few paces towards the end of the portello, and 
with his arms crossed on his back, and cigarette in his mouth, surveyed the 
country. A horseman, enfolded in a dense cloud of dust raised by his rapid 
pace, was coming towards him. 

” Ouf I ” the traveller said, stopping his horse and leaping off ; “I could not 
stand it any longer, vulga me D.os ; what a horrible heat ! ” 

“Ah, Senor Diego, you are welcome,” said the colonel, as he offered his hand. 
** Dinner is waiting for us.” 

The ventero introduced them into a retired cuarto. The two guests sat 
down to table, and vigorously attacked the dishes placed before them. During 
the first part of the dinner, being fully occupied with satisfying the claims of an 
appetite sharpened by a long abstinence, they only interchanged a few words; 
but ere long their ardour was calmed, they threw themselves back on their 
butaccas with an air of satisfaction, lit their cigarettes, and began smoking. 

” There,” Don Diego said, ” now that we have fed well, suppose wo 
talk.” 

“ I am ’quite ready,” the other answered, with a crafty smile. 

“ Well,” Don Diego continued, “ I will tell you that I spoke yesterday to the 
general about an affair which I propose, and what do you think his answer wasf 


An Honest Man, 


91 


* Do not do so, my dear Don Diego ; in spite of his great talents, Don Fel'pe 
is an ass imbued with the most absurd prejudices ; he would only see the 
money and refuse with a laugh in your face, although certainly twenty-five 
thousand piastres are a very handsome sum. Now, if you think proper to 
mention the affair to him, he will shut your mouth and send you and your 
twenty-five thousand piastres to the deuce.” 

“ Hum I ” said the colonel, to whom the amount caused serious reflection. 

“ Well,” continued Don Diego, “ after due consideration, I am of the generaFs 
opinion.” 

“ Ah 1 ” the colonel said again. 

“ It annoys me, but I must make up my mind to it ; I will go and find 
Cuellar.” 

“ Cuellar is a scoundrel 1 ” Don Felipe exclaimed, violently. 

“ I am well aware of it,” Don Diego replied, gently ; “ but what do I care for 
that ? by giving him ten thousand piastres beforehand, I am certain that he 
will accept my proposition.” 

“ Confound it ! ” said the colonel ; “ that is a tidy sum you offer.” 

“ Well, you understand, my dear sir, that I am not the man to ask any friend 
of mine to undertake such a job gratuitously.” 

“ But Cuellar is no friend of yours.” 

“ It is true, and that is why I feel sorry about applying to him.” 

“ Am I not your friend ? be assured that I will be as dumb as the grave.” 

“ This is simply the matter ; I shall tell you nothing new, colonel, when I 
tell you that numerous spies sell without scruple to Mirainon the secrets of our 
military operations. Now the government of his excellency, Don Benito Juarez, 
has, at this moment, its eyes open upon the machinations of two men, who are 
strongly suspected of playing a double part; but the individuals in question are 
gifted wifh remarkable talent, their measures are so well taken that, in spite of 
the moral certainty existing against them, it has hitherto been impossible to 
obtain the slightest proof. These two men must be unmasked by seizing their 
papers, on the delivery of which fifteen thousand piastres will be immediately 
paid, in addition to the ten thousand advanced.” 

“ Indeed, it is a meritorious act of patriotism to acquire this certainty : and 
who are the two men, pray ?” 

“ Oh 1 these are no ordinary persons — quite the contrary,” 

“ But theij names — their names ? ” ^ 

“ You know them well, or, at least, I suppose so; the first is Don Antonio 
de Cacerbas, and the second ” 

“ Don Melchior de la Cruz 1 ” Don Diego exclaimed, eagerly. 

“ You know it 1 ” Don Diego exclaimed. 

“ The sudden elevation of these two men, the most unlimited credit which 
they enjoy with the president, has caused me to reflect.” 

“ Hence, certain persons consider it necessary to elucidate the question by 
assuring themselves in a positive manner about what these two men are,” 

“ Well,” Don Felipe exclaimed, “ 1 will know it I I promise you.” 

« You will do that ? ” 

** Yes, I swear it; and,” he added, with a singular smile, “ no one possesses 
the means to obtain the result better than I.” 

“ I trust you may not be mistaken, colonel, for if this were to happen I think 
I'may assure you that the gratitude of the government towards you will not be 
limited to the sum of which I am going to hand you a portion.” 

It^on Diego, without appearing to remark the smile, took from a large pocket- 
»00k a sheet of paper, and handed it to the guerillero, who seized it with at 


gesture of delight. This paper was a draft for ten thousand piastres, payabld 
at sight, on a large English banking house at Vera Cruz, Don Diego rose* 

“ Are you going ?” the colonel asked him. 

“ Yes ; I am sorry to be compelled to leave you.” 

** We shall meet again soon, Senor Don Diego.” 

The young man remounted his horse, and went off at a rapid pace. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

LOVE. 

Dolores and Carmen were alone in the garden, hidden like two timid turtle 
doves, in an arbour of pomegranate trees. Dona Maria had shut herself up to 
read an important letter which Don Jaime had sent her by a safe man. 

The girls were rejoicing their hearts by confiding to each other their simple 
and sweet secrets; there were no concealments or subterfuges, but an entire and 
unbounded confidence. 

Dona Carmen and Dona Dolores were really simple and innocent girls, 
ignorant of all coquettish tricks. 

“ Dolores,” Dona Carmen said, “you are braverthan I. You know Don Ludovic 
better than I do ; and, besides, he is your relation ; why this reserve with him ? ” 

“ Alasl my darling,” Dona Dolores replied, “this reserve which surprises you 
is forced upon me by my position. Count Ludovic is now my sole relation, as 
I am deserted by all the others ; for many years 'past we have been betrothed 
to each other.” 

“ How is it possible,” the girl exclaimed, “ that parents dare to enchain their 
children ? ” 

“ These arrangements a^re frequently made in Europe, dearest, I under- 
stand ; moreover, does not our natural weakness render us women slaves of men ?” 

“ Well, do you, in spite of your heart, consent to this odious marriage ? ” 

*' What shall I answer you, darling? The mere thought that this marriage 
might be accomplished renders me wild with grief, and yet I can see no way of 
escaping it.” 

“ But, my darling,” Dona Carmen exclaimed, “ why do you not have a clear 
explanation with the count ? ” 

“ This explanation cannot come from me ; the count has rendered me 
immense services since my unfortunate father’s death.” 

“ Oh, you love him, Dolores ! ” she exclaimed, passionately. 

No, I do not love him,” she answered, with dignity. 

At th is moment footsteps were heard on the gravel walk. 

The count appeared at the entrance of the arbour. He was alone. He bowed 
to the young ladies, and waited for their permission to join them. Dona Dolores 
offered him her hand with a smile, while her companion bowed to hide het 
blushes. 


Love. 


93 


“You are welcome, cousin,” said Dona Dolores. You arrive late to-day.” 

“ I am pleased, cousin,” he replied, “that you have noticed this involuntary 
delay. My friend, Don Dominique, who was obliged to go this morning early 
two leagues from the city, intrusted me with a commission.” 

“ Permit me. Dona Carmen,” he continued, as he bent down courteously to 
the young lady, “ to offer you my respectful homage, and inquire after your 
health.” 

“ I thank you for this attention, Caballero,” she answered. “ Thank Heaven, 
my health is very good : but I should wish that my mother’s were the same.” 

“ Is Dona Maria ill ? ” he eagerly asked. 

“ I hope not ; still she is so indisposed as to keep her room.” 

“ Perhaps my presence might appear improper under the circumstances,” 
said the count. 

“ Not at all. Stay, caballero, you are no stranger to us. Your title of cousin, 
and betrothed of my dear Dolores,” she said significantly, “ sufficiently authorises 
your presence.” 

“ You overwhelm me, senorita, but you are rising ; do you propose leaving us, 
Dona Carmen ? ” 

“ I ask your permission to leave you for only a few minutes caballero ; 
Dona Delores will keep you company, while I go and see whether my mother is 
better.” 

“ Do so, senorita ; and be kind enough to inform her of the lively interest I 
feel in her, and my grief at finding her indisposed.” 

The young lady bowed and went away, light as a bird. The count and Dona 
Dolores remained alone. Their situation was singular and most embarrassing, 
for they thus unexpectedly found themselves in a position to have that 
explanation, from which they both hung back, while recognising its urgent 
necessity. Some minutes elapsed during which the two young people did 
not utter a word, and contented themselves with taking shy glances at each 
other. 

“ Well, cousin,” said the count, with the easiest air he could affect, “ are you 
beginning to grow used to this secluded life ?” 

“ I am perfectly accustomed to this tranquil existence, cousin,” she 
answered. 

“ I congratulate you, cousin.” 

“ In truth, what do I want for here ? Dona Maria and her daughter love me.” 

“ I envy your philosophy, cousin. Still, my duty as a relation and a 

friend,” he added hesitatingly, “ oblige me to remind you that this situation can 
only be precarious. You cannot hope to pass your life in the bosom of this 
charming family.” 

“ That is true, cousin,” she murmured in a low and trembling voice. 

“ You know,” he continued, “ how little it is permitted in this unhappy 
country to reckon on the future. A young lady of your age, and especially of 
your beauty, cousin, is fatally exposed to a thousand dangers. I am if not 
your nearest relative, certainly the most devoted. You do not doubt this, I 
hope ? ” 

“ Beueve, on the contrary, that my heart retains a profound gratitude.” 

“ Only gratitude ? ” he said significantly. “ The word is vague, cousin.” 

“ What other word would you have me employ ? ” she asked. 

“ i am wrong,” he continued. “ The fact is, the situation in which we stand 
at this moment is so singular, cousin, that I really do not know how to express 
myself. I am afraid of displeasing you.” 

“ No, cousin ; you have nothing of the sort to fear,” she answered. 


94 


kt RebvL CfiuJ, 


“ You give me the title of friend,” he said gently, “ Your father desired ^ 

" Yes.” she interrupted. “ I know to what you allude ; my father had plans 
for me.” 

'I'hose projects, cousin, it depends on you alone to realise.” 

My father’s wishes,” she went on in a trembling voice, “are commands to 
me, cousin.’* 

“Cousin, cousin,” he exclaimed hotly, “ I do not mean that, I will never 
force you to contract a marriage which would render you unhappy.” 

“ Thanks, cousin,” she murmured, and cast her eyes down ; “ you are noble 
and good.” 

“ Dolores,” said the young man, “ permit me to call you by that name, cousin, 
for I am your friend.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” she exclaimed, anxiously. 

I mean, Dolores, that I give you back your promise. I renounce the honour 
of marrying you, though, with your permission, I still claim fiie right of watch- 
ing over your happiness.” 

“ Cousin 1 ” 

Dolores, you do not love me ; your heart is given to another ; a marriago 
between us would cause the misery of both, poor girl. You have already been 
sufficiently tried by adversity ; it will not be my fault if your fate is not, ere long, 
united with the man you love.” 

“ Ah ! ” she exclaimed, “ why is it not you I love ? ” 

“The heart has its anomalies, my cousin. Who knows, perhaps it is better 
that it is so ? Now dry your tears ; only see in me a devoted friend, a sure 
confidant, to whom you could without fear intrust ail your charming iuve 
secrets.” 

“ What ? ” she said, looking at him with surprise, “ you know ? ” 

“ I know all, cousin, so reassure yourself ; besides, he has confessed everything 

to me.” 

“ He loves me 1 ” she exclaimed, drawing herself up to her full height* 

At this time the sound of hurried footsteps was heard outside. 

“ He is coming to tell you so himself,” the count remarked. 

At the same instant Dominique entered the arbour. 

** Ah I ” she said, trembling and falling back on the bench she had left. 

** Good God 1 ” Dominique cried, turning pale, “ what is going on Here P ** 

“ Nothing that need alarm you, my friend,’* the count answered with ft 

smile. 

*‘ Can it be true ? ” he exclaimed, as he rushed towards her. 

“ Oh, cousin 1 ” the young lady said, in a tone of gentle reproach, *‘ why have 
you taken this unfair advantage of a secret ? ” 

“Which you did not confide to me, but I guessed,” he answerer. 

“ Traitor 1 ” the young lady said, “if you have read my secret, I have surprised 
yours.” 

And she disappeared, flying light as a bird, and leaving the two men face to 
face. Dominique stood amazed at this unexpected flight. 

“ Stay,” said the count, “ the heart of a girl contains mysteries which must 
not be unveiled.” 

“ Oh ! my friend,” he exclaimed, “ I am the happiest of men.” 

“ Egotist! ” the count said gently, “ you only think of yourself.” 

Dona Dolores had only fled so fast from the arbour in order to restore a 
little order to her thoughts, and to recover from the ex^ssive emotion She wa.'si 
tuffering. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


THE BOLD STROKE, 

Going back a little distance, we will relate what had occurred from the day 
wnen Miramon so freely disposed of the money of the convention bonds de- 
posited in the English consulate to that which our story has reached. 

As Don Jaime had predicted, the rather brutal manner in which General 
Marquez executed his orders, and the most illegal act of seizing the money, 
tasl a fatal slur on the character of the young President. 

The greater part of the money was employed in paying the soldiers. 

Which done, Miramon began recruiting for the purpose of increasing the army, 
so that he might, for the last time, try the fortune of war. But in spite of the 
confidence he affected, the young and adventurous general did not deceive him- 
self as to the deplorable state of his position. Hence, he determined to try 
the last resource in his power, that is to say, diplomatic mediation. 

The Spanish ambassador, on arriving in Mexico, recognised Miramon’s 
government ; it was therefore to this diplomatist that the President in his des- 
perate circumstances applied. He proposed to submit to certain conditions, of 
which the following were the most important ; — 

Firstly — The delegates chosen by the two belligerent parties, conferring with 
the European ministers and the representative of the United States, would 
agree as to the way of re-establishing peace. Secondly — These delegates would 
nominate the person who was to hold the government of the whole Republic, 
while a general assembly resolved the questions that divided the Mexicans* 
Thirdly and lastly — The manner of convoking Congress would also be deter- 
mined. 

As was generally supposed, this final attempt at reconciliation failed. Juarez, 
master of the larger portion of the territory of the republic, felt himself too 
strong in his government of Vera Cruz not to triumph fully. 

Still Miramon, like a brave lion at bay, did not despair. In order to keep 
together the scattered strength of his last defenders, he addressed to them a 
supreme appeal, in which he strove to rekindle the dying sparks of his ruined 
cause by trying to impart to those who still surrounded him the courage which 
himself retained intact. Unhappily, faith had fled. 

Night was drawing to its close ; bluish gleams filtered through the curtains 
and paled the candles burning in the cabinet to which we have once before led 
the reader. This time the same couple were face to face in the cabinet. The 
candles, almost entirely burnt down, prove that the conference had been long; 
the two men, bending over an immense map, seemed to be studying it with the 
most serious attention. All at once the general rose with an angry movement, 
and fell back into an arm-chair. 

“ Bah 1 ” he muttered between his teeth, what is the use of opposing ill- 
fortune ? ” . 

“ Do you despair ? ” the adventurer asked significantly. 

I do not j far from that, 1 am resolved to fail if necessary, sooner than yield 


96 


• The Rebtl Chief. 


to the law which would be imposed on me by that villain Juarez, a hateful and 
vindictive Indian,” 

“ What would you have, general ? ” the adventurer asked sarcastically. “ Who 
knows whether the Spaniards did not educate this Indian for the purpose of 
accomplishing a vengeance.” 

“ Everything would lead to the belief, on my soul ! Never did man follow with 
more cat-like patience the darkest schemes, or accomplish more odious actions 
with such impudent cynicism.” 

“ Is he not the chief of the Puros? ” the adventurer said laughingly. 

“ Curses on the man ! ” the general exclaimed. “ He wishes for the ruin of 
our country.” 

“ Why do you refuse to follow my advice ? ” 

“ Good heavens 1 ” said the general, “ because the plan you submit \s im- 
practicable.” 

“ Is that really the sole motive that prevents you from adopting it ? 

“ And then again,” the general said, “ I consider it unworthy of me.” 

“ Oh, general, permit me to remark that you have not understood me.” 

“ Monsieur, you are joking, my friend ; i have so thoroughly understood you, 
on the contrary, that if you wish it, I can repeat to you, word for word, the plan 
you have conceived.” 

“ It is infallible ; consider, general, that your enemies rightly consider you 
shut up in the city, engaged in fortifying yourself there in the prevision of the 
siege with which they menace you; that since the defeat of General Marque* 
they know that none of your partisans keep the field.” 

“ That is true,” the general muttered. 

“ Hence, nothing w.ll be more easy than to rout them. Only gain the victory 
in three or four encounters, and your partisans, who are deserting you because 
they believe you ruined, will return in crowds.” 

“ Yes, yes, I understand the boldness of this plan.” 

If you are defeated, you ennoble your overthrow by falling sword in hand 
upon a field of battle instead of letting yourself be smoked out like a fox from 
the earth by an enemy whom you despise.” 

The general rose, and began walking up and down the cabinet with long 
strides ; presently he stopped in front of the adventurer. 

“ Thanks, Don Jaime,” he said to him, in an affectionate voice ; “your rough 
frankness has done me good, it has proved to me that I have at least one 
faithful friend left in misfortune ; well, be it so, I accept your plan. What 
o’clocx is it ? ” 

“ Not quite four, general.” 

“ At five, ! shall have left Mexico.” 

“ Are you leaving me, my friend ? ” the general said, as the adventurer rose. 

“ My presence is no longer necessary here, general ; permit me to retire.” 

“ We shall meet again.” 

“Yes, at the moment of action, general. Where do you intend to attack the 
enemy ? ” 

“ There,” said the general, placing his finger on a point of the map, “ at 
Tabuca, where his vanguard will not arrive before two in the afternoon.” 

“ The spot is well chosen, and I predict you a victory, general.” 

“ May Heaven hear you I I do not believe in it.” 

And he affectionately offered his hand to the adventurer, who took leave and 
withdrew. A few minutes later Don Jaime had left Mexico, 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


THE SORTIE. 

As Tvliramon had stated to the adventurer, at five o’clock he left Mexico at the 
head of his troops, which were not numerous, consisting of three thousand five 
hundred men, infantry and cavalry, without artillery, on account of the exe- 
c*^^ble roads. Every cavalry man carried an infantry soldier behind him. It was 
really a coup de main that the President was about to attempt — a most hazard- 
ous one. General Miramon rode at the head of the army,, in the midst of his 
staff, with whom he gaily conversed. On seeing him thus calm and smiling it 
might have been fancied that no anxiety disturbed his mind ; he seemed on 
leaving Mexico to have resumed that happy carelessness of manner which the 
anxieties-of power had made him so rapidly forget. 

At about ten o’clock the President ordered a halt, to rest the horses and givo 
the soldiers time to breakfast. 

At eleven boot and saddle was sounded, and the troops at once fell into their 
ranks. They were approaching Tacuba. The road, cut up by deep ravines, 
which could only be crossed with great difficulty, became almost impracticable; 
still, the soldiers were not discouraged. 

General Cobos had been detached to reconnoitre at the head of twenty reso- 
lute men, in order to watch the enemy’s march. Suddenly Miramon perceived 
three horsemen galloping towards him. Of these three men, two were soldiers ; 
the third appeared to be a peasant. 

“ Who is this man ?” the President asked of one of the soldieis. 

“ Excellency,” he replied, “ this man asked to be led to you, for he says he 
is the bearer of a letter.” 

“ Who sent you to me ? ” the President asked the stranger. 

“ I pray your excellency first to read this letter,” he answered. 

“ Ah ! ah ! ” said Miramon ; “ what is your name good fellow P ** 

** Lopez, general.” 

Good. So he is near here ? ” 

“ Yes, general; in ambush with three hundred horsemen.” 

“ Are you capable of guiding us ? ” 

“ Wherever you please.” * 

“ Do you know the enemy’s position ?” 

“ Perfectly, excellency.” 

“ At what distance are we from Tacuba ? ” 

“ Following this road, about three leagues, excellency,” 

“ That is a long way : is there no shorter road ? ” 

“ There is one that shortens the distance by more than two-thirds.” 

“ Carai I ” the general exclaimed, “ we must take it.” 

** Yes, but it is narrow, dangerous, and impracticable for artillery.” 

I have no artillery.” 

•* Still, with your excellency’s permission, i will offer a bit of advice wbicb I 
tiiink good.” g 


08 


The Chief, 


** Speak.’* 

“ The road is rough ; it would be better to dismount the cavalry, send the 
infantry on ahead, and let the cavalry follow, leading their horses by the bridle.** 

“ That will delay us a long time.” 

“ On the contrary, general, we shall go faster on foot.** 

Very well ; how long before we reach Tacuba ? ” 

“ Three-quarters of an hour. Is that too long, general ? ** 

“ No ; if you keep your promise I will give you ten ounces,** 

Thanks, excellency. Now we will set out when you like, but order your 
soldiers to maintain the deepest silence.” 

They set out : all their movements had been performed in the deepest silence, 
with admirable rapidity and precision. Lopez had made no mistake; the path 
along , which he led the troops was so rocky and difficult that they advanced 
nidch more rapidly on foot. 

** Does this path run any long distance ? ” the president asked. 

“ Within half a gun-shot of Tacuba, general,” he answered; “at that point 
it ascends until it commands Tacuba.” 

“ Hum ; there is both good and bad in what you say.” 

“ I do not understand your excellency.” 

“ Hang it 1 it is clear enough, I fancy ; suppose the Puros have' placed a line 
of sentries on the heights our project will be thwarted and our expedition 
rendered fruitless.” 

“ Pardon me, excellency, the Puros know that no corps keep the field ; they 
believe themselves certain of having no attack to apprehend ; hence they do 
not take precautions.” 

They continued their advance with re'Ioubled precautions. They had been 
for about five-and-twenty minutes on the path, when Lopez, after looking 
searchingly around, suddenly halted. 

“ What are you doing ? ” the general asked. 

“ As you see, excellency, I am stopping. On the other side of that bend 
before us the path begins to ascend, and we are not more than a musket-shot 
from Tacuba. With your permission, I will go on ahead.” 

“ Go,” the general said ; “ we will await your return.” 

Lopez took oif his weapons and hat, which were not only useless to him, but 
might betray him ; and lying down on the ground, he began crawling in the 
Indian fashion. At a signal from the president the word to halt ran rapidly 
along the ranks, and the army stopped almost simultaneously. Several 
minutes elapsed. The generals had drawn nearer, and surrounded the 
president. 

*• That man is a traitor,” General Cobos said. 

“ I do not believe it,” Miramon replied. “ I am sure of the person who sent 
him.” 

At this moment the bushes were parted, and a man appeared. It was Lopez, 
the guide. His face was calm, his eye bright, his step confident. 

“ Well ? ” Miramon asked. 

“ I have advanced to the very crest of the heights, excellency,” he replied. 
“ I have distinctly seen the bivouac of the Puros. They do not suspect your 
presence.** 

“ Then they have not posted a line of sentries on the heights P ** 

“ No, general.” 

•• Good I Lead me to the entrance of the path, for I must examine the 
ground before I arrange my plan of attack.” 

“ i am ready,” said Lopez, picking up his gun and hat. 


The Sortie, 


99 


They advanced. Behind them, at a short distance, came the army. Every- 
thing was deserted, as the guide had announced. Miramon examined the 
ground with the most serious attention. 

“ Good 1 ” he muttered ; “so your master is in ambush ? ” 

“ Yes, excellency.” 

But how to warn him so that his attack may coincide with ours ? ” 

“ Nothing is easier, excellency. You see that tree which stands alone?” 

“ Yes, I see it ; what then ? ” 

“ I have orders to cut off the head of that tree at the moment you commence 
the attack.” 

“By heaven 1 ” he exclaimed, “that man was born a general; nothing 
escapes him. Go to the tree, climb up it, and hold yourself in readiness. You 
have understood me ? ” 

“ Perfectly, excellency.” 

And, taking his horse from the assistento who was holding it, he proceeded 
calmly towards the tree. Miramon divided his infantry in three corps, and 
placed his cavalry in reserve. All these arrangements made, the troops began 
to ascend the heights. When they reached the top — “ Forward I forward 1 ” 
Miramon shouted, waving his sword, and rushing down the slope. The whole 
army rolled after him like an avalanche. On seeing the president raise his 
sword, Lopez deftly lopped off the crown of the tree, on the top of which he 
was ; then, when this exploit was accomplished, he stepped down, leaped on his 
horse, and galloped after the army. 

The sudden appearance of Miramon’s troops caused a frightful disorder in 
the bivouac of the Puros. 

The generals who commanded them, brave and intelligent officers, made a 
tremendous resistance. At the head of those troops who had succeeded in 
forming their ranks they kept up a murderous fire, while the guns placed in 
battery decimated the president’s infantry. The affair was becoming serious. 
The Juarists had the advantage of numbers. Having recovered from their 
panic, there was reason to fear that, if the combat were prolonged, they might 
assume the offensive. At this moment loud shouts were heard in their rear, and 
a large body of cavalry rushed upon them with couched lances. Taken between 
two enemies, the Juarists believed themselves betrayed. They lost their heads, 
and began to disband. Miramon’s cavalry appeared at this moment, and 
vigorously charged the enemy. The combat then degenerated into a massacre 
— it was no longer a fight, but a butchery. The retreat began, and was soon 
changed into a rout. General Bercozabal, General Digollado, his sons, two 
colonels, all the officers composing their staff, fourteen guns, a large quantity 
of ammunition and arms, and nearly two thousand prisoners, fell into Mira- 
mon’s hands. The president had seven men killed, and eleven slightly 
woundc'-i. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


TRIUMPH. 

This unforeseen victory, so brilliant and com Dlete, gained by MIramon over 
veteran troops commanded by renowned officers, restored courage and hope to 
the terrified partisans of the president. The temper of the troops changed to 
such an extent that they no longer doubted the triumph of their cause. Amid 
the general joy Miramon alone entertained no illusions as to the value of the 
victory he had gained. 

The rumour of the brilliant success gained by the president reached Mexico, 
and immediately ran from mouth to mouth, though no one could tell whence 
he obtained it. At the news the joy was universal, and at night the citizens 
Spontaneously illuminated. 

Miramon passed through the crowd, cold and impassive, returning with an 
imperceptible expression of irony the salutations incessantly made to him on 
both sides ot the road. He dismounted at the palace; a little in front of the 
gate a man was standing motionless and silent. This man was the adventurer. 
On seeing him, Miramon could not restrain a movement of joy. 

“ Ah, come, come, my friend,” he exclaimed, walking towards him. 

And, to the general stupefaction, he passed his arm through his, and led him 
into the interior of the palace. When the president reached the private cabinet 
in which he usually worked, he threw himself into an easy-chair, and wiping 
with a handkerchief his damp face, he exclaimed, with an ill-tempered tone — 

“ Ouf 1 I am half dead 1 This stupid reception wearied me more than all 
the other events of the day.” 

“ Good,” the adventurer replied, affectionately. ** I am glad to hear you 
speak thus, general. I was afraid lest you might be intoxicated by your success.” 

“ What do you take me for, my friend ? ” answered the general. “ What a 
wretched opinion you must have of me if you suppose that I am a man to let 
myself be thus blinded by a success wh’.ch, brilliant though it may appear, is in 
reality only one victory more to register.” 

“ What you say is only too true, general.” 

“ Do you fancy I am ignorant of it? My downfall is inevitable : this battle 
will only retard it for a few days. I must fall, because, in spite of the enthusi- 
astic shouts of the mob, fortune has abandoned me for ever. I feel that the 
temper of the nation is no longer with me.” 

At this moment the door of the cabinet was opened, and General Cobos 
appeared. 

**Ahl it is you, my dear general,” the president said to him. “You are 
welcome.” 

“ 1 implore your excellency to excuse me for venturing to appear thus, 
without being announced ; but I have to talk to you on serious matters.” 

The adventurer made a movement to withdraw. 

“ Stay, I beg of you,” the president said, checking him by a sign, “ Speak^^ 
my dear general,” 


“-Excellency, the greatest disorder is prevailing on the plaza among the 
people and the troops ; the majority are noisily demanding that the officers 
taken prisoners to-day may be shot.” 

“ Wnat ? ” the president asked ; “ what is that you are saying ? ” 

“ If your excellency will deign to open the windows of this cabinet, you will 
hear the cries of death which the army and the people are raising in concert.” 

“ Ah ! ” Miramon muttered. “ Political assassinations committed in cold 
blood. Where are the captured officers ? ” 

“ In the interior of the palace, under a guard in the courtyard.” 

“Give orders for them to be at once brought into my presence. Go, general.” 

“ Ah, my friend,” the president exclaimed, as soon as he found himself alone 
with the adventurer, “ what can be hoped from a nation so devoid of moral 
feeling as ours ? But follow me; we must put an end to this.” 

He then left the cabinet, accompanied by the adventurer, and entered an 
immense saloon, in which his most devoted partisans were assembled. The 
president seated himself in a chair raised on two steps, and the officers who 
remained faithful to his cause grouped themselves on either side of him. At an 
affectionate nod from Miramon the adventurer remained by his side. 

A noise of footsteps and the rattling of arms were heard outside, and the 
captured officers, preceded by General Cobos, entered the hall. 

The one who walked first was General Bircozabal. After him came General 
Digollado between his two sons ; then two colonels, a.nd the officers composing 
General Bircozabal’s staff. 

“ Caballeros,” said the president, with a graceful bow, “ I regret that the cir- 
cumstances in which we are now unfortunately placed do not permit me at once 
to restore you to liberty ; but at any rate I will try, by all the means in my 
power, to render you comfortable during a captivity which I hope will not last long. 
Be good enough first to receive back the swords which you wielded so bravely.” 

He made a sign to General Cobos, who hastened to restore to the prisoners 
the arms which he had taken from them. 

“ Now, Caballeros,” the president continued, “ deign to accept the hospitality 
which I offer you in this palace, where you will be treated with all the respect 
that your misfortune deserves. I only ask your word as soldiers and Caballeros 
not to leave it without my permission.” 

“ General,” Bircozabal answered in the name of all, “we thank you sincerely 
for your courtesy, we could not expect less from your well-known generosity. 
We give you our word, and will only employ the liberty you grant us within the 
limits you may think proper.” 

After a few more compliments had been exchanged between the president 
and the two generals, the prisoners withdrew. At the moment when Miramon 
was preparing to return to his cabinet, the adventurer quickly checked him, and 
pointed to a general officer, who was apparently trying to escape notice. 

“ Do you know that man ?” he said to him in a low and trembling voice. 

“Of course I know him,” the president answered; “ he is a Spaniard, and 
his name is Don Antonio de Cacerbas.” 

“ Ah I I know his name-,” said the adventurer. “ General, that man is a traitor,” 

“ Nonsen.se, you are jesting.’l 

“ I repeat, general, that man is a traitor: I am sure of it,” he said, forcibly. 

“ I beg you not to press the point, my friend,” the general quickly interrupted 
him ; “ it would be painful to me. Good night, come to-morrow ; I wish to 
talk to you about important matters.” 

And after nodding kindly to him the president returned to his cabinet. The 
adventurer left the palace full of the most sinister anticipations. _ 


CHAPTER XXVTI! 


EL PALO QUEMADO. 

Thi^ adventurer, as ^e said, left the palace. The Plaza Mayor was deserted, the 
popular effervescen ,e had calmed down as rapidly as it had risen ; the troops 
had returned to their quarters. The leperos and other citizens, seeing that 
decidedly there was nothing to be done, after a few cries and yells, dispersed 
in their turn. 

Lopez alone remained firm at his post. The adventurer had ordered him to 
wait for him at the palace gate, and he did so. When Lopez saw the palace 
gate opened, he understood that it could only be his master who thus came out 
alone, and he went up to him. ' 

“ Anything new ? ” the adventurer asked, as he put his foot in the stirrup. 

“ I fancy I saw just now some one I know leaving the palace.” 

" Ah 1 was it long ago ? ” 

No, a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes at the most ; but I am afraid I 
was mistaken, for he wore a costume so different from that in which 1 knew 
him, and then I had but such a slight opportunity of looking at him.” 

“ Well 1 whom did you fancy you recognised ?” 

** You will not believe me if I tell you it was Don Antonio de Cacerbas.” 

“ On the contrary, for I also saw him in the palace.” 

“ Ah, deraonio 1 in that case I regret that I did not listen to his conversa* 
tion.” ’ 

“ What conversation — when, with whom ? Speak, will you explain your- I 
self?” _ I 

“ I will do so, mi amo. When he left the palace there were still some 
groups on the plaza. A man quitted one of the groups and approached Don ; 

Antonio.” , 

“ Did you recognise the man ?” ” 

“ Well, no, for he had a broad brimmed Vicuna hat pulled down over his i; 
eyes.” 

“ Come to facts,” the adventurer exclaimed impatiently. 

These two men began conversing in a low voice.” 

“ And did you hear nothing ? ” 

** No, only a few unconnected words, that was all.” 

Repeat them at any rate.” 

Willingly. ‘ So he was there,' one of them said. ' Bah ! he would not 
dare,’ the first continued. Then they talked so low that 1 could not hear any- ij 
thing. The first said presently, ‘ We must go.' ‘ It is very late,’ the other j 

objected. I heard only the two words — Palo Quemado. Then after exchang- |1 

ing a few whispered words, they separated ; the first at once disappeared under | 
the portalis. As for Don Antonio, he turned to the right, as if intending to go J 

to the Paseo de Bucarelli ; but he will have stopped at some house.” j 

“Give me my reins,” said the adventurer, “ and follow me. The horses — ” ’ 

“Are quite fresh,” Lopez said, as he haiKied the adventurer a double^ 


El Palo Quemado. 


103 


barrelled gun, a brace of revolvers, and a machete ; “ by your orders I went to 
the corral, where I saddled Mono and Zopiloto, now here.” 

You have done well — let us be off.” 

They rode away, crossed the deserted square, and after a few turnings, made 
doubtless with the intention of throwing out any spies who might be watching 
their movements, went in the direction of Bucarelli. 

When the two riders found themselves sufficiently distant from the palace 
no longer to fear pursuit, each drew a black half-mask from his p®cket and put 
it on his face ; this precaution was taken against any idlers who might recognise 
them in spite of the darkness. They soon reached the entrance to the Paseo de 
Bucarelli ; the adventurer stopped, and after striving to sound the gloom with a 
piercing glance, he gave a shrill and prolonged whistle. At once a shadow 
emerged from a gateway where it was perfectly concealed. 

“ Has any one passed during the last three quarters of an hour P ” the adven- 
turer said. 

“ A man came, stopped before the house there on your right, and rapped his 
hands twice; at the end of a moment a door opened, a peon came out leading m 
horse by the bridle, and holding a cloak lined with red under his arm.” 

“ How did you see that on this dark night? ” 

“ The peon carried a lanthorn ; the man to whom I allude reproached him 
for his imprudence, smashed the lanthorn, and then threw the cloak over his 
shoulders.” 

“ Well, what next ? ” 

“ He handed his plumed hat to the peon ; the latter entered the house, from 
which he came out a moment after with a Vicuna hat, pistols, and a gun ; he 
put spurs on the officer, who seized the weapons, mounted his horse, and de- 
parted in the direction of the Plaza Mayor.” 

The adventurer and his peon turned round. Don Jaime seemed to know 
what direction he should follow, for he galloped without hesitation through the 
streets ; he soon reached the guarita of San Antonio, which he passed without 
stopping. On arriving about six hundred paces from the guarita, at a spot 
forming a square, the centre of which is occupied by a stone cross, and from 
which six wide but badly kept roads radiate, the adventurer halted again, and, 
as on the first occasion, gave a shrill whistle. At the same instant a man lying 
at the foot of the cross rose. 

“ A man has passed here,” Don Jaime said, “ mounted on a skewbald hors^ 
end wearing a hat with a gold golilla?” 

“ The man has passed,” the stranger answered. 

*' What direction did he take ? ” 

“ That,” the stranger answered, stretching out his arm towards the second road. 

** Where is your horse ? ” 

“ In a corral near the guarita.” 

“ It is too far, I have no time to wait ; farewell, watch.” 

“ I will watch.” 

The two horsemen resumed their journey, and galloped for about an hour 
without exchanging a syllable ; at length they perceived a short distance from 
them a dark mass. All at once a dog began barking furiously. 

*• Demonio !” Don Jaime exclaimed ; “ that accursed animal will betray us.” 

“They spurred their horses and darted past at full speed. At the end of a 
few minutes the dog, whose barking had changed into hoarse growls, was quite 
silent. The horsemen stopped. 

“ Hide the horses somewhere in the vicinity,” said Don Jaime, “ and wait 
for me.” 


104 


The Rebel Chief. 


Lopez made no answer, the worthy man was not given to talking. The adven- 
turer lay down on the ground like an Indian of the savannahs, and by an undu- 
lating movement approached the rancho of the Palo Quemado. When he was 
only a short distance from it, he saw that some ten or a dozen horses were tied 
up in front of the house, and that several men were lying on the ground asleep 
near them. He stopped — the situation was a difficult one. Still, the greater 
the difficulties appeared, th^ more the adventurer comprehended the importance 
of the secret he wished to surprise ; hence his hesitation was short. 

He merely redoubled his prudence and precautions, advancing inch by inch 
as it were, and crawling along the ground with the silent elasticity of a reptile. 
Instead of proceeding directly to the rancho he went round it. As he had fore- 
seen, the rancho was only guarded in front. He rose and examined the neigh- 
bourhood as far as the darkness pernitted it. A rather large corral, enclosed 
by a quickset hedge, joined the house : this corral appeared deserted. Don 
Jaime went in. 

Now the difficulties were slighter to approach the house, and in a few instants 
he almost reached the wall. What astonished him was not having been scented 
and tracked by the dog. 

This is what had happened ; disturbed by the barking of the dog, and fearing 
lest it should reveal their presence to the Indians, who at this hour were pro- 
ceeding to the city for the purpose of selling their wares, the strangers collected’ 
in the rancho, trusting in their sentinel to watch over their safety, ordered the 
ranchero to call the animal into the house. 

The excessive prudence on the part of the temporary guests of the rancho 
permitted the adventurer to approach without being discovered. While atten- 
tively examining the wall jilong which he was moving, he came to a door, which, 
by some inconceivable negligence had been left ajar. Th*is door opened on a 
very dark passage, but a slight ray of light which filtered through the badly 
joined crack of a door, revealed to Don Jaime the spot where, in all probability, 
the strangers were assembled. 

The adventurer stealthily approached, placed his eye to the crevice, and 
looked. Three men, folded in their cloaks, were seated round a table covered 
with bottles and glasses, in a rather large room, only lighted by one candle 
placed on the corner of the table. An animated conversatic'n was going on. 
These three men the adventurer at once recognised : the first was Don Felipe 
Neri Irzabal, the guerillero colonel, the second Don Melchior de la Cruz, and 
the third Don Antonio de Cacerbas. 

And he listened attentively. Don Felipe, who was speaking, seemed to be in 
an advanced state of intoxication ; still, though his speech was thick, he did 
not wander as yet, but, like all hatf-drunken people, he was beginning to stray 
into abstruse arguments. 

“ No,” he rcpeatetl, “ it is useless to press me, senores; I will not give you the 
letter you ask oi me. I am an iioacst man I ” ami at eacti sentence he struck the 
table. 

“ But,” Don Melchior remarked, “ if you insist on keeping this letter it will be 
impossible tor us to carry out the mission.’* 

** What credit,” Don Antonio added, ” will be given us by the persons with whom 
we wish to come to an understanding if we have nothing to prove to them that w« 
are duly authorised to do so ? ” 

“ Thai does not concern me. I am an honest man, and must guard my 
interests.'” 

‘‘What you are saying is absurd I” Don Antonio exclaimed, “We risk om 
heads.” 


Stttleirient of Accounts. 


105 


** Possibly, my dear sir ; everybody does as he pleases. I am an honest man ; I 
go straight before me. Why did you not warn the general of to-day’s affair, in 
accordance with your agreement with him ? ” 

“ We have proved to you that it was impossible, as the sortie was unexpected^* 

'‘Good that! You will settle as you can with the general-in-chief.” 

“ Enough of this nonsense,” Don Antonio said, drily ; “ will you, or will you not, 
deliver this letter } ” 

“ No,” Don Felipe answered, “ unless you give me an order for ten thousand 
piastres.” 

“ But,’’ Don Melchior exclaimed, “ you will commit a scandalous robbery.” 

“Well, what then.^” Don Felipe said; “I rob, you betray — we arc well 
matched.” 

A? this insult, so brutally hurled in their teeth, the two men rose. 

‘‘The most simple j Ian is to go to the general-in-chief,” Don Antonio added; 
"he will do us justice.” 

‘‘ Go, go, my dear sirs,” the guerillero said, with a grin, “ and luck go with 
you ! ’’ 

At this menace the two men exchanged a glance, and suddenly left the room. 

"They are gone,” the guerillero muttered, as he poured out a tumbler of mezcal. 
They are decamping, on my word, as if the fiend were carrying them off! they are 
furious.” 

While speaking thus to himself, the guerillero replaced his tumbler on the table. 
Suddenly he started ; a man wrapped up to the eyes in the folds of a thick cloak was 
standing in front of him. This man held in each hand a revolver. The latter gave 
a sudden start of terror. 

‘‘ Hilloah ! ” he exclaimed, ‘‘ who is this demon, and what does he want ?” 

"One word, one gesture,’’ the stranger said, ‘‘ and I blow out your brains.** 

The guerillero fell heavily back on the stool he had been sitting on. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

settlement op accounts. 

Hidden behind the passage door, the adventurer had not lost a word of what was 
said. When Don Melchior and Don Antonio rose, Don Jaime, not knowing by 
what door they would go out, hastily left the passage. But, a few minutes after, 
as nothing had stirred, and no noise was heard, he ventured to enter the passage 
again. 

I'hen he approached the door, and applied his eye to the crack through which he 
had been previously able to see all that went on. The two men had just gone ; Don 
Felipe was alone, still seated at the table, and drinking. The adventurer’s resolution 
was at once formed. 

The ugh the guerillero was brave, the sudden appearance of the adventurer and the 
sight c t the revolvers pointed at him alarmed him, Don Jaime took advantage of 


io6 


The Hehel Chief. 


this moment of prostration ; without uncocking his pistols, he walked straight to the 
door through which Don Melchior and Don Antonio had retired, secured it inside to 
avoid any surprise, then letting his cloak fall, said — 

Let us have a talk.*’ 

Though these words were pronounced in a rather gentle voice, the effect they 
produced on the guerillero was immense. 

“ El Rayo ! ’’ he exclaimed with a shudder of terror on perceiving the black mask. 

** Ah ! ah 1 ” the latter said, with an ironical laugh. “ So you recognise me ? ** 

“ What do you want of me ? ” he stammered. 

** Several things,*’ the adventurer replied ; “but let us proceed regularly.” 

The guerillero poured out a tumbler of Catalan refino, and emptied it at a 
draught. 

“ Take care,** the adventurer observed to him ; “ Spanish brandy is strong, it easily 
rises to the head.** 

“ That is true,’* the guerillero muttered. 

The adventurer smiied, then said, “ I see that you have a good memory, and I am 
glad of it ; I was afraid you had forgotten me.” 

“No, no; I remember our last meeting at Las Cumbres.** 

“ Exactly : do you remember how that interview terminated ? *' 

The guerillero turned pale, but made no reply. 

“ Good ; I see that your memory fails you, but I will come to its aid.*’ 

“ It is unnecessary,” said Don Felipe, “ you told me ” 

“I know — I know,” the adventurer interrupted. “Well, I am going to keep the 
promise I made you.” 

“All the better,” the other said resolutely. “After all, a man can only die once.” 
“ I am delighted to find you in such a warlike temper,” the adventurer coldly 
answered restrain your ardour a little, pray: everything shall have its turn, I 
assure you, but that is not the point for the moment.’* 

“ What is it then ?’* the guerillero asked with amazement. 

‘‘ I am going to tell you. How much,” he said, “ did you ask your noble friends 
for the letter which Senor Don Benito J uarez ordered you to deliver to them ? ** 

“ This man is the fiend,” muttered Don Felipe, with horror. 

“ No ; reassure yourself I am not the fiend, but I know a good many things. I 
know the bargain you made with a certain Don Diego ; moreover, if you desire it, 
1 will repeat to you word for word the conversation which you held scarce an hour 
ago in this very room with the Senores Don Melchior de la Cruz and Don Antonio de 
Cacerbas. Now, let us come to facts; I wish you to give me the letter of Senor 
Jaurez which you have, and surrender to me at the same time the other papers of 
which you are the bearer.” 

The guerillero had had time to recover a portion of his coolness, hence it was in 
rather a firm voice that he said — 

“ What do you intend doing with these papers ? ” 

“ That can be of very little importance to you when they are no longer in your 
hands.” 

“ Caballero,’* Don Felipe said with an accent of dignity at which the adventurer 
was surprised, “ it is not worthy of a brave man like yourself tlius to menace a 


‘f, 

I 

V 


i 




i 


I 


defenceless man. My only weapon is my sabre, while you, on the contrary, hold the 
lives of a dozen men at your disposal.” ( 

“ This time there is an appearance of reason in what you say,” the adventurer | 
observed, “ and your remark would be just were 1 about to use my revolvers in | 
forcing you to do what I demand of you ; but reassure yourself. I will merely cross f 
my machete with your sabre.’* I 

“Will you really act thus, Caballero ? ** | 


i 

I 




SetlJernent of AccouJits, 


10 ) 


** 1 pledge you my wofd ; I am accustomed always to settle my accounts 
honourably.’* 

“ I do not hate you more than any other villain of your stamp,’’ he said, savagely 
** In a moment of braggadocio you wished to see my face, so that you might 
recognise me hereafter. I warned you that the sight would cost you your life. 
Now, I give you five minutes to reflect, and to tell me if you persist in your refusal.” 

“ The five minutes you so generously grant me are unnecessary , my resolution 
is unbending; you shall only have the papers wiih my life.” 

“ Very good ; you will die,” he said as he rose. 

He took his revolvers, uncocked them, and laid them on the table at the other 
end of the room ; then, returning to the guerillero and drawing his machete he 
asked — 

** Are you ready ? ” 

One moment,” Don Felipe answered, is the duel we are going to fight mortal ? ** 

** Here is the proof,” the adventurer answered, as he unfastened his mask and 
threw it from him. 

Go:d,’’ he said ; “the proof you give me is quite sufficient, and one of us must 
die. Let us suppose it is I.” 

“Any supposition is unnecessary, the fact is certain.’’ 

‘‘ I admit it,” the guerillero answered coldly ; “ in the case of it being realised, do 
you promise me to do what I am about to ask of )'^ou 

“ Yes, on my honour, if it be possible.” 

“ 1 have a mother and young sister, who live rather poorly in a small house 
situated not far from the Canal de las Vegas, in Mexico ; you will find their exact 
address in my papers.” 

“ Good.” 

“ 1 desire them to be put in possession of my fortune after my death.” 

“ It shall be done ; but where is this fortune to be found ? ” 

“ At Mexico ; all my funds are deposited with an I Co., English bankers.** 

“ I pledge you my honour.” 

“ Good ; I have confidence in you. I have only one more request to make of 
you.” 

“ What is it } ’* 

“This; we Mexicans are very clumsy hands with sabres and swords, whose use 
we are ignorant of, as duels are prohibited by law. The only weapon we can 
properly use is the knife.” 

“'The strange duel ycu propose to me is better suited for leperos and bandits than 
Caballeros ; but I accept.” 

“lam grateful to you for so much condescension, and now Heaven protect me.” 

“ Amen ! ” the adventurer said, with a smile. 

Don Felipe and Don Jaime had unnooked their swords, which were now useless, 
and armed themselves with the long knife which every Mexican carries in his right 
boot. After taking off their cloaks, they rolled them round their left arms, carefully, 
letting a small part hang down in guise of a curtain : it is with this arm thus 
protected that blows are parried. Then the two men fell on guard, with their legs 
straddled and slightly bent, the body forward, the left arm half extended, and the 
blade of the knife concealed behind the cloak. The fight commenced with equal 
ury on either side. The two men turned and bounded round one another, advancing 
and falling back like two wild beasts. 

It was really a combat to death they were fighting. Don Felipe had a perfect 
knowledge of this dangerous weapon ; several times his adversary saw the bluish 
flash of the steel dazzle his eyes, and felt the sharp point of the knife slightly buried 
in his flesh : bat, calmer than the guerilleiOi he allowcd the laUcir to C2;haust hulled; 


io8 


The Rebel Chief. 


m vain effoits, waitin^^ with the patience of a lurking- tiger for the favourable moment 
to finish by one stroke. 

Several times, harassed by fatigue, they stopped by common accord. Don 
Felipe gathered himself up, and leapt forward with the rapidity of a jaguar; but his 
foot slipped in the blood, he tottered, and while he was striving to regafn his balance 
the whole of Don Jaime’s blade was buried in his chest. 

The unhappy man heaved a stifled sigh, a flood of blood poured from his mouth 
and he fell like a dog on the ground. ^ 

“ Poor devil ! ” Don Jaime muttered, ‘‘ he brought it on himself.” 

After this laconic funeral discourse, he fell on the guerillero’s dolman and caU 
coneras, and seized all the papers about him. Then he took up his revolvers, resumed 
his rnask, and wrapping himself as web as he could in his cloak, went through the 
hole in the hedge, and on arriving at a certain distance from the Palo QuemsTdo, he 
imitated the wnoot of the owl. Almost immediately Lopez appeared with, the two 
horses. 

‘‘ To Mexico,” Don Jaime cried, as he bounded into the saddle. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

A SUPREME RESOLUTION. 

The first beams of day were beginning to tinge the sky with opaline tints at the 
moment when the two horsemen reached the guarita of San Antonio. Don Jaime 
proceeded straight to the house he inhabited in the calle de San Francisco. 

On reaching home he dismissed Lopez, who was liteially falling asleep. 

Don Jaime dressed his wounds, then sat down at his fable, and began inspect- 
ing the papers he had found such difficulty in seizing, and whose possession had 
nearly cost him his life. He soon was completely absorbed by the task, which 
seemed greatly to interest him. At length, at about ten he left his seat, folded up the 
papers, placed them in his portfolio, threw a zarape over his shoulders, put on a 
Vicuna hat, with a large gold golilla, and left the house in this garb. 

Don Jaime, it will be remembered, had given Don Felipe his word of honour to 
be his residuary legatee. It was to fulfil this sacred promise that he went out. 
About six o’clock he returned home. His word was liberated. He had delivered to 
Don Felic e’s mother and sister the fortunes which a knife-thrust had made them so 
promptly inherit. At the door of his house the adventurer found Lopez. I'he peon 
had prepared a modest dinner for his master. 

“What news is there? ” Don Jaime asked him as he sat down to talk. 

“ Not much, mi amo,” he answered. “A captain has called.” 

“ Ah I ” said Don Jaime. 

The President wishes you to go to the palace at eight o’clock.’* 

“ I will go. Well, what next ? Have you not been out? ” 

** Pardon me, mi amo, I went as usual to the barber’s.’* 

** And did you hear nothing there r ” 


A Supreme Resolution, 


lOp 


** Only two things.” 

** Let me hear the first.” 

•*Thc Jaaiists, it is said, are advancing by forced marches on the citadel.” 

** This news is rather probable. The enemy must at this moment be cuncentratin| 
his forces. What next ? ” 

Lopez burst into a laugh. 

” Why are you laughing, animal ? ” Don Jaime asked him. 

“ It is the second piece of news 1 heaid that makes me laugh, mi amo.” 

^ Is it very funny ? ” 

** Well, you shall judge. It is said that one of the most formidable guerillero chiefs 
of Benito Juarez was found this morning killed by a knife at the rancho of Palo 
Quemado.” 

“ Oh, oh 1 ” said Don Jaime ; and do they say how this event occurred ? ” 

“ No one understands anything about it, mi amo. All they can say is that Don 
Felipe was found dead in the room from a stab which had passed thiough his heart,'* 

“ However, I am going to take a walk about town till eight o’clock. At ten you 
will be at the palace gate, with two horses and weapons.” 

“ Yes, mi amo, and 1 will wait till you come out, no matter at what hour.” 

At eight o’clock precisely the adventurer presented himself at the palace gates. 
An usher was waiting to lead him to the president. General Miramon was walking 
up and down a small saloon adjoining his private apartments. 

“ You are welcome, niy friend,” he said affectionately, offering him his hand. 

** I find you sorrowful, general ; has anything annoying happened to you ? ” 

”No, my friend, nothing ; but you know that for a long time past I have not had 
much cause for gaiety. 1 have just left Madam Miramon ; the poor woman is 
trembling, not for herself, dear and gentle creature, but for her chiidien. She has 
been weeping, and that is why you find me sad.” 

‘‘ But why not, general, send Madam Miramon away from this city ? ” 

” 1 have proposed it to her several times ; I have insisted by trying to make her 
undeistand that the interests of her children, their safety, imperiously demanded this 
separation ; but she refused. She is divided between the Jove she bears me and her 
affection for her children.” 

“ Have you any plan ? ” asked the adventurer. Before answering the general walked 
rounil the room. 

“Yes,” he at length said, returning to Don Jaime. “ Yes, my friend, I have a 
plan, for I wish to have an end to this. My victory of yesterday has given me 
courage, if not hope, and I mean to attempt a decisive stroke.” 

They then approached a table, on which was stretched out an immense map of 
the Mexican Confederation, with pins stuck into it at a great number of points. 

The president continued — “Don Benito Juarez has ordered the concentration of 
his troops, and their immediate march on Mexico. ' Alas! here is General Oitega’s 
corps, composed of ii,ooo veteran troops; it is coming from the interior — that is to 
say, from Guadalagaro. Amondea and Gazza are coming from jaipa, b'Hnging 
with them neaily 6,ooo regulars, and flanked on the right and left by the guerrillas 
©f Cuellar, Carvajal, and Don Felipe Neri Irzabal.” 

“ As for the last, general, you need not trouble yourself about him further; he is dead*'* 
Granted ; but his band still exists.” 

That is tiue.” 

‘‘Now these bands, arriving from different directions simultaneously, will erelong 
if we allow it, join and enclose us in a circle of steel.” 

« Well ” 

“ I will tell you ; by exhausting all our resources, I could not bring together mord 
than 7,oco men — a very weak army.” 


I ro 


The Rebel ChieJ, 


‘ In the open country it is possible *, but being in Mexico, with the formidable 
artillery you have at your disposal, more than 120 guns, it is easy few you to 
organise a serious resistance.” 

“ \ es, my friend, what you say is true ; but, as you know, I am a humane and 
>ioderate man, the city is not disposed to defend itself ; we have neither the 
jovisions nor means of obtaining them, since the country no longer belongs to us. 
J)o you understand, my friend, what would be the horrors of a siege endured under 
such disadvantageous conditions ? No, the mere thought of the extremkies to which 
this hapless population would be exposed lacerates my heart.” 

“ General, 1 wish your enemies could hear you express yourself.** 

** Why, my friend, those whom you call my enemies do not in reality exist. 
Overtures have been made me personally on several occasions offering me very 
advantageous and honourable conditions ; when I have fallen I shall offer the 
singular peculiarity, rare in Mexico, of a President of the Republic overthrown by 
people who esteem him.” 

” Yes, general, and had you consented to remove certain persons whom I will not 
name, all w^ould have been arranged amicably.” 

I know it as well as you, my friend, but it wou’d have been cowardice.’* 

“ The sentiments you express, general, are not for me to discuss.” 

Thanks ; let us quit this subject and return to what we were saying. I do not 
wish by my fault to entail the destruction of the capital, and expose it to the 
sanguinary horrors of pillage, which always follow the capture of a besieged city. 
1 know Juarez’s gueiilleros — they would not leave one stone on the other, be assured, 
my friend.” 

“But what is your plan?** 

” My plan is simply to leave the city with 6,000 men, the elite of my troops, 
wnarch straight on the enemy, surprise and beat them in detail, ere tne different 
corps have had time to effect their junction.” 

‘‘ When do you } ropose carrying out your plan ? ” 

“ In a few" days, for I require time to prepare it. Before ten days I shall be in a 
position to act. I can reckon on you, I suppose ? ” 

“ Of course, general ; am I not yours body and soul ? ” 

I know it, my friend ; but enough of politics at present. Pray accompany me to 
the apartments of Madam Miramon; she eagerly desires to see you.” 

” This gracious invitation fills me with joy, general ; and yet I should have liked 
to speak with you about a very important matter.” 

“ Later, later — a truce, I implore you, to business. Perhaps it relates to a new 
defection or traitor ? During the last few days I have heard enough of such bad 
news to desire the enjoyment of a few hours’ respite, 

And taking Don Jaime by the arm, he gently led him to the apartments of 
Madam Miramon, a charming, timid, and loving woman — the true guardian angel 
ftf the general. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


JOSE DOMINGUEZ. 

At ttie jend of an hourDon Jaime left the palace, followed by Lopez, and went to the 
house i.i the suburbs, where he found the count and his friend. 

** Oh, here you are at last, brother I Dona Maria exclaimed joyfully, “ What a 
strangler you have grown 1 

“ Business! ” the adventurer answered, with a smile. 

The table was laid in the centre of the room. 

“ Since supper is on the table,” Don Jaime said, ” I will not let you sup alone.*^ 

“ What happiness ! ” Dona Carmen exclaimed. 

The gentlemen offered a hand to the ladies and led them to their seats, after 
which they sat down by their side. The supper began. Never had the young ladies 
been so happy, for this unexpected pleasure charmed them. All at once midnight 
struck on a clock standing on a console in the dining-room. 

” Good gracious I ” Dona Dolores exclaimed, with a slight start of terror, “ so 
)ater» 

” How time passes I ” Don Jaime said, carelessly, “ We must now think of 
going.” 

They left the table ; and the three friends, after promising to visit the three 
recluses as often and as soon as possible, at length withdrew, leaving the ladies at 
liberty. L( pez was waiting for l.is master under the saguan, 

“ W hat do you want } ” the latter asked him, 

** We are spied,” the peon answered, 

Don Jaime looked out. Exactly opposite the gate a man was standing, almost 
confounded with the darkness that prevailed in a hollow formed by the scaffolding of 
a house under repair. It would have escaped any less piercing glance than that of 
tlie adventurer. 

“ I believe you are right,” Don Jaime said. ” In any case, it is urgent to make 
sure, and I will undertake it,” he added between his teeth, with a terrible expression. 
** Change cloak and hat with me. You will accompany these Caballeros.” 

“But,” said Dominique, “ I fancy it would be more simple to kill the man.” 

“That may happen,” Don J.-dme answered; “but I wish to make certain before- 
hand that he is a spy ; 1 do not care to commit a mistake. Do not be anxious 
about me,” 

“ Good-bye for the present, then,” the count said, shaking his hand. 

They then went out, followed by Leo Carral and the count’s two servants. Dona 
Maria’s old servant closed the gate with a bang, but was careful to open it again 
noiselessly. Don Jaime placed himself at the wicket, whence it was easy to watcl? 
all the movements of the supposed spy. At the noise caused by the departure of 
the young men, the latter eagerly bent forward, doubtless to remark the direction 
they followed, and then returned to his dark corner, where he resumed his statuesque 
iw.mobility. Nearly a quarter of an hour passed ere the man made the slightest 
movement. Don Jaime did not lose him out of sight. At length he cautiously 
emerged from his hiding-place, looked carefully around, and, reassured by the 


l^he Hehel Chwf, 


iir 


solitn-^e of tbe sfreet, ventured to take a few steps forward; then, after a moment’s 
hesitation, he boldly advanced towards the house, crossing the street in a straight 
line. Suddenly the gate opened, and he found himself face to face with Don Jaime. 

“ Ah, Senor Jose Dominguez,” said the adventurer, an instant after, in an ironical 
tore of voice, “ is it you } Viva Dios ! 1 d.d not expect to meet you here." 

1 he poor wretch looked piteously at the man in whose power he was, but made 
no answer. The adventurer waited a moment, then seeing that his prisoner was 
decidedly determined on not answering him, he said, as he gave him a rough 
shake — 

‘‘ Come, scoundrel, are you going to answer or no? ” 

It is El Rayo or the fiend ! ” muttered the fellow, as he looked despairingly at 
the masked face of the man who held bin. 

It is certainly one or the other,’’ the adventurer said, with a laugh. ^‘Now be 
good enough to tell me how it is that you have become a spy and doubtless au 
assassin.” 

“ Misfortunes, excellency. I was calumniated. T was too honest! ” 

** You ? Hang me if 1 believe a word of it. 1 know you too tnoroughly, scoundrel, 
for you to try to deceive me.” 

“ Would vou have any objection, excellency, to hold my arm not quite so tightly? 
You are twisting it so cruelly that it must be broken.” 

“ Very good,” he said, loosing his hold ; “ but make no attempt to fly.” 

]ose Dominguez, on feeling himself delivered from the adventurer’s rough grasp, 
gave a sigh of relief, shook his arm several times, in order to re-estabiish the circu- 
lation, and then decided on speaking. 

“ I will tell you first,” he said, “ that I have risen to the rank ol lieutenant.” 

“All the better for you. But w^hat are you doing here?” 

“ I am on an expedition, excellency.” 

“ On an expedition alone, in Mexico ? ” 

“ 1 am telling you the truth. My captain accompanies me.** 

“ This captain has a name, I suppose ? ” 

“ Certainly, excellency. He is Don Melchior de la Cruz ? ” 

“ Now 1 can guess all. You are ordered to spy Dona Dolores de la Cruz, I sup- 
pose ? ” 

“Yes, excellency.” 

“That is not all, my scamp ; there is something more yet.** 

“ But I assure you ’’ 

“Ah, I see I must employ a grand method,” he said, coldly, cocking a pistol. 

“ Why, what are you doing, excellency,” he exclaimed, in terror. 

“ You can see that I am simply preparing to blow out your brains.” 

“ But that is not the way to make me speak,” he said, with simplicity. 

“No,” the adventuicr answered, coldiy ; “but it would make you hold youf 
tongue.” 

“Hum,” he said, “you employ such arguments, I prefer telling you every- 
thing ! ” 

“ You will act wisely.** 

“Well, this is the matter in a few words. I was not only ordered to watch Dona 
Dolores, but also tthe old and young ladies with w'hom she resides, as well as all the 
persons who visit them.” 

“ And since when have you carried on this honourable trade, scoundrel?/* 

“ About ten or twelve days, excellency.” 

“ Are you well paid by your employer ? ” 

“ He has not given me anything yet, 1 must allow ; but he has promised utt 
fifty ounces^” 


Jose Dominguez, 




“ Oh, promises cost Don Melchior nothing. It is easier to promise fifty ounces 
than to give ten piastres.” 

Do you think so, excellency ? Is he not rich ? ” 

What, sc(<undrel ! you attach yourself to a villain who has not a farthing — who 
is hooelessly ruined, instead of taking side with those who could pay you ? ” 

“ Who are th y, if you please, excellency.^ I confess tnat 1 have very long fingers, 
and would serve such persons enthusiastically.** 

“ Do you fancy that I am going to amuse myself by giving you advice ? ’* 

Ah ! it you would, excellency, I should be delighted to serve you.” 

“ Hang it I as you aie the enemy of those whom 1 love, you must be my enemy 
too.” 

“ Oh ! if I had only known it ! ” 

“ What would you have done.^ ” 

I do not know, but certainly I should not have played the spy on them. Employ 
me, excellency, I implore you.” 

The adventurer pretended to reflect. Jose Dominguez anxiously awaited. 

No,” he said at last ; “ you are a man who cannot be trusted.” 

** Oh, how badly you know me, excellency, when I am so devoted to you 1 *' 
^‘That is a devotion which has spiung up very rapidly,” said the adventurer. 
‘‘ Well, I consent to make a trial.” 

“ It is enough, excellency ; 1 know you ; you will be contented with me. What 
do you want } ” 

You will only have to turn your dolman, that is all.” 

“ Good, I understand, that is easy; my master will not take a step without your 
being warned of it.” 

“ Good I Has not our dear Don Melchior an intimate friend? ** 

“ Yes, excellency, a certain Don Antonio de Cacerbas.” 

‘‘There will be no harm in your watching him, too.” 

“I am quite willing.” 

“ And as all trouble deserves payment, I will give you half an ounce in advance.** 
“ Half an ounce ? ” he exclaimed, with a radiant look. 

“And as you are in want of money, I will adva’^ce you twenty days’ pay.” 

“Ten ounces I You will give me ten ounces, excellency 1 To me! Oh, it is 
impossible I ” 

“ It is so possible that here they are,” he continued, taking them from his pocket. 
The bandit clutched them with a movement of feverish joy. 

“ Oh I ” he exclaimed, “ Don Melchior and his friend had better lOok out.” 

Be adroit, for they are clever.” 

** I know them ; but they have to deal wdth a clever fellow : trust to me for that.** 
“ Well, if by chance these gentlemen let any papers of importance fall, you will 
do well to pick them up and bring them to me at once.” 

“ Enough. If I do not find any lying about I will look for them.” 

“That is a good idea, which I approve of. If you make a mistake it will be all 
the worse for you.” 

“ 1 will take my precautions, excellency. Now will you be kind enough to tell 
me where 1 can find you when I have communications to make or papers to 
deliver ? ” 

“ 1 w'ill walk every afternoon from three to five along the canal.” 

“ I will be there.” 

They separated. Don Jaime proceeded towards the residence of the young man, 
rubbing his hands. The count and his friend, disturbed by Don Jaime’s long 
absence, were awaiting him with a feeling of lively anxiety; they wure already pre- 
paring to go iii search of him whea he entered. They received him with worm 


The Rebel Chief. 


II4 


tesfimonies of joy, and then asked him about his expedition. Don Jaime repeated to 
them in detail his conversation with Jose Dominguez, and how he had led him 10 
betray his master. This narrative greatly amused the young men. 

“ My friends,” was Don Jaime’s last remark, “ though my conduct may seem to 
you so extraordinary, do not judge of it yet. Everything will soon be explained to 
you, whatever the result may be, and hence be patient, for you are more interested 
Itian you suppose in the success of this affair. Farewell.” 

He press'^d their hands affectionately and withdrew. 

Don Jaime, apparently at least, led the idle life of a man whom his position 
places above all accidents, and for whom political events possess no impoitance. 
Every day he took a walk on the Canal de las Vegas, accident made him meet Jose 
Dominguez tliey conversed for a long time while walking side by side, and then 
separated, apparently mutually satisfied. 

My friend, Juse Dominguez,” Don Jaime said to his spy at the s’xth or seventh 
interview he had with him, “take care; 1 fancy 1 can perceive tUat you Have been 
trying to play a double game.” 

Oh, excellency,” Jose Dominguez explained, “you are mistaken ; I am most 
faithful.” 

That is possible ; at any rate you are warned, and act accordingly ; and mind 
not to forget to bring roe to-morrow the papers you promised me for tne last ttiice 
days.” 

On the next day, at the appointed hour, Don Jaime was at the place of meeting : 
Jose Dominguez speedily arrive 1, and, with a great display of devotedness according 
to his wont, handed a rather large bundle of papers to the adventurer ; the latter 
took a rapid glance at them, and, after letting a heavy purse of go.d drop into t/iS 
guerillero’s hand, he brusquely turned his back on him. 

*‘Diablosl” Jose Dominguez muttered. “He does not seem in a very sweet 
temper to-day, so I must not leave nim time to take his precautions : I liave 
luc7ffly discovered where he lives, and now 1 must hasten and tell everything to Don 
Melchior.” 

Saddenly Jose Dominguez, w^ho was walking with his head down as persons do 
who are reflecting, ran full butt against two individuals. The (wo persons were 
probably quick tempered, and addressed some reproaches to the gueriilero. The latter, 
who did not feel anxious to get into an ugly quarrel, attempted to apologise as well 
as he could. But the strangers would dsten to nothing, and continued to apply to 
him the epithets of brute, ass, and other compliments. Though the gueiillero was on 
his guard, his patience at length deserted him, and, letting himself be overpowered 
by passion, he laid his hand on his knife. This imprudent action was his ruin. 
'J he two strangers rushed upon him, knocked him down, and both stabbed him re- 
peatedly ; then they assured themselves that the poor fellow was really dead ; after 
W’hich they quietly went off, though not till they had eased him of his money and 
everything that could prove his identity. 

Thus died Senor Jose Dominguez. The celadores picked up his body two hours 
later, and, as no one recognised it, it was uncexemoiiioosly cast into a hole dug in 
the cemetery without further inquiry. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


THE BEGINNING OF THE END, 

Thb few days which had elapsed since his interview with Don Jaime were not 
wasted by General Miramon. Decided on playing a last stake, he had not been 
willing to jisk it till he had as far as possible equalised the advantages. 

Not only did the president actually employ himself in recruiting and organising 
his army and placing it on a respectable footing ; but in addition, not heeding for 
himself how injurious the seizure of the six hundred thousand piastres of the conven- 
tion bonds in the house of the'tlonsul of that nation was to him, he made energetic 
efforts to repair the injury which this stroke had done 1 im, and paved the way for 
a negotiation by which he pledged himself to refund in London the money he had so 
unfortunately taken. 

Miramon then redoubled his efforts, and, at length succeeded in arming eight 
thousand men — a very small number against the twenty four thousand who menaced 
him — for General Huerta, whose conduct had for some time past been marked with 
suspicion, at length decided on leaving Orelia at the head of four thousand men, 
who, joined to the eleven thousand of Gonzalez Ortega, the five thousand of Gazza 
Amondea, and the four thousand of Aureliana, Carvajal, and Cuellar, formed an 
effective strength of twenty-four thousand men, who were advanced Dy forced marches 
on Mexico, and would speedily appear before the city. The situation became more 
critical every moment. 

When the president believed that he had taken all the prudential measures which 
circumstances demanded, he assembled a last council of war to discuss the most 
suitable plan for surprising and defeating the enemy. This council of war lasted 
several hours. 

Unfortunately, on this day, General Miramon, usually so sensible and prudent, 
allowed himself to be carried away by his personal resentment instead of consider- 
ing the true interests of the nation. 

When the council finally broke up, the president withdrew to his apartments in 
order to make his final arrangements. I'he president had been shut up for som« 
hours ; the hour was advanced when the usher on duty announced Don Jaime. He 
at once ordered him to be shown in. The adventurer entered. 

“ You will permit me to go on, will you not? ” the president said with a smile. 

'*Do so, pray, general,” the adventurer said, seating himself in a butacca. 

Miramon resumed his momentarily interrupted occupation. Don Jaime gazed 
at him for a moment with an expression of indescribable melancholy. 

“ So,” he said, “ your resolution is decidedly formed, general ? ” 

“Oh, the die is cast. I am going to offer my enemies battle.” 

“ I do not blame that resolution, for it is worthy of you, general. Will you permit 
me to ask when you purpose setting out ? ” 

“ To- morrow, immediately after the review I have ordered.” 

“ Good; in tharcase I have time to send out two or three intelligent scouts.” 

“ Although several have already started, 1 gratefully accept your offer, Doa 


Ii6 


The Rebel Chief. 


“Now, be kind enough to tell what direction you intend to follow.’’ 

“ I intend to take the bull by the horns ; that is to say, Gonzalez Ortega himself.' 

“ I have, indeed, a matter of the utmost importance to communicate to you. Be good 
enough to read this paper.” 

And he handed the president a folded document. The president took it, read it 
without displaying the slightest sign of surprise, and then returned it to the 
adven turer. 

“ Have you read the signature ? ” said the latter. 

” Yes,” he repl ed coldly; “ it is a letter of credit given by Don Benito Juarez to 
Don Antonio de Cacerbas, recommending the latter to his adherents. 

“ It is really so, general ; you have now no doubts left as to that man’s 
Aeachery ? ” 

“ None; but listen to me, Don Jaime, and you will understand me,” the president 
answered in a gentle and penetrating voice ; “ Don Francisco Pacheco, ambassador 
extraordinary of the Queen of Spain, has rendered me immense services since his 
arrival in Mexico. After the defeat of Silao he did not hesitate to recognise my 
government. Since then he has offered me the best advice, and given the greatest 
proof of sympathy ; his conduct has been so kind toward me that he has compro- 
mised his diplomatic position, and so soon as Juarez obtains the power he will 
certainly hand him his passports. I reckon to obtain from the enemy, in the 
probable event of a defeat, good conditions, not for myself, but for the unhappy 
population of this city. This man is not only a Spaniard and the bearer of a great 
name, but he was also personally recommended to me by the ambassador himself, 
whose good faith, I feel convinced, has been surprised.” 

” Y es, general, I am aware of that.” 

“ Good. Now what would the ambassador think were I to arrest on a crime mf 
high treason not only a Spaniard of the highest rank, but also a man whom he re- 
commended to me } Don Pacheco is the representative of a European government;; 
he belongs to the old school of diplomatists of the beginning of the century r for thesei 
two reasons and others 1 pass over in silence ; he holds us poor American diplo- 
matists and governors in but slight estimation ; Don Pacheco would be furious,, 
and instead of a useful friend, I should make myself an irreconcilable enemy.” 

“ The reasons you condescend to give me, general, are very good, 1 allow ; but„ 
for all that, the man is a traitor.” 

“ That is true, but he is no fool — far from it. If I fight to-morrow and gain the 
victory, he will remain attached to my fortunes, as he was at Tacuba.’’ 

“Yes, he will be faithful till he finds an opportunity for ruining you utterly.” 

“ Who knows — perhaps we shall find the means of getting rid of him.’’ 

” Stay, general,’’ said the adventurer, “ I believe I have found the means*** 
First, allow me to ask you a question, and promise to answer it.” 

“ J do promise.” 

“ Y ou know this man ; he is your personal enemy.” 

“ Yes, general,” he answered frankly. 

“I suspected it: the inveteracy you displayed did not seem to me natural.’* 

“ The sole motive that holds you back, you told me yourself, is the fear of offend- 
ing the ambassador of her Catholic Majesty.” 

” It is, indeed, the sole one, Don Jaime.” 

“ Well, general, suppose Don Pacheco consented to abandon this man ?” 

“ Could you succeed in obtaining that? ’’ 

“ I will obtain more, if necessary ; 1 will make him give me a letter, in which he 
riiall not only abandon Don Antonio de Cacerbas, but also authorise you to try him.” 

” Oh. oh 1 that seems a rather bold statement Don Jaime,” the president remarked 
dubiously.” 


The Beginning of the End. 




" That is my business, general ; the main point is, that you shall not be compro- 
tnised.** 

“ That is my only desire, and you understand the serious reasons for it ? 

** I understand them, general, and pledge you my word that your name shall not 
be even mentioned.” 

“ In my turn, I pledge you my word as a soldier that if you succeed in obtaining 
this letter, the villain shall be shot in the back.” 

“ I hold your pledge, general ; besides, I have the blank signature you were kind 
enough to give me ; I will myself arrest the villain when the moment arrives/* 

** Have you nothing more to say to me? ** 

** General, I wish to accompany you on your expedition.** 

** I thank you my friend, and gladly accept.” 

** I shall have the honour of joining you at the moment when the army sets out.” 
“ I attach you to my staff.’* 

** It is, no doubt, a great favour,** he answered, with a smile, “but unfortunately 
it is impossible for me to accept it.** 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Because I shall not be alone ; the three hundred horse who followed me at Tacuba 
will again come with me.” 

“ I give up all idea of comprehending you ; you have the privilege of performing 
miracles.** 

“ Y ou shall have a proof of that. Now, general, permit me to take leave of you.** 
** Go, then, my friend, I will keep you no longer.** 

After affectionately pressing the hand which the general offered him, Don Jaime 
withdrew. 

Lopez was waiting for him at the palace gate ; he mounted his horse, and at once 
returned home. After writing some letters, which he ordered his peon to deliver at 
once, Don Jaime changed his dress, took certain papers locked up in a bronze casket, 
assured himself that the hour was not improper, then went out, and hurried to the 
Spanish Embassy. The ambassador’s door was still open ; a porter was standing 
at the entrance of the saguan, halberd in hand. 

Don Jaime addressed him. The porter called a footman, and made the adventurer 
a sign to follow this man. On reaching an antechamber, an usher, wearing a silver 
chain round his neck, app. cached Don Jaime, who handed him a card, sealed up in 
an envelope. 

“ Deliver this card to his excellency,** he said. 

At the expiration of a few minutes the usher returned, and throwing open a door 

said — 

“ His excellency awaits your lordship.** 

Don Jaime followed him, passed through several rooms, and at length reached 
the cabinet. Don Pacheco advanced a few steps toward him and bowed graciously* 
“To what happy chance may I attribute your visit, caballero?*’ he asked him. 

“ I beg your excellency to excuse me,’* Don Jaime replied, with a bow, “ but it 
Was not in my power to select a more convenient hour.’* 

“ At whatever hour you may think proper to come, sir, I shall always be delightedi 
to receive you,** the ambassador made answer. 

The two gentlemen bowed again to each other, and sat down. . 

“ Now I am ready to listen to you,” the ambassador said ; “ be kind enough tsa 
speak, my lord count.” 

“ I implore you,” Don Jaime interrupted, “ to permit me to maintain my 
incognito.” 

“ Very good, sir, I will respect your wishes,” the ambassador remarked, with m 
bow. 


ii8 


The Rebel Chief. 


Don Jaime opened his pocket-book, and took from it a document, which he handed 
to the ambassador. 

Will your excellency,** he said, ** deign to cast your eyes on this royal order } ^ 

The ambassador took the order, and began reading it with the most earnest 
attention. 

Do you demand the execution of this royal order, caballero ? the ambassador 
said. 

Don Jaitne bowed. 

“ Very good,” Don Francisco Pacheco remarked. 

He rose, went to his table, wrote a few words on a sheet of paper bearing the arm-s 
of Spain and the Embassy stamp, signed it, sealed it, and t.iea handed it open to 
Don Jaime. 

“ Here,*’ he said, *Ms a letter for his excellency, General Miramon.’’ 
will take charge of it, with your excellency’s permission,” he replied. 

The ambassador folded the letter, put it in an envelope, and then handed it !o Don 
Jaime. “ I regret caballero,” he said, “ that I am unable to give you any other ' 
proofs of my desire to be agreeable to you.’* 

“ I hare the honour to request your excel lency to accept the expression of my lively 
gratitude,” Don Jaime answered , with a respectful bow* 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE LAST BLOW. 

On the morrow the sun rose radiantly in floods of gold and purple. Mexico waa 
rejoicing. The city had resumed its festive air; it seemed to have returned to the 
bright days of calmness and tranquillity : the whole population were in the streets ; 
the motley crowd were hastening with shouts, songs, and laughter to the Paseo de 
Bucarelli. Military bands, drums and fifes, could be heard playing in different 
directions. Staff officers, dressed in uniforms glistening with gold and plumed 
hats, were gall^ing about to deliver orders. The troops left their barracks, and 
proceeded towards the Paseo, where they drew up on either side of the great avenue. 

Although nothing would have been easier for the president than to avoid the battle, 
still he determined to try the issue. On perceiving the enemy he mounted his horse, 
rode along the ranks of his small army, and raising his sword in the air, shouted 
“ Forward ! ” 

The battle at once commenced. The Juarist army, forced to form under the 
enemy’s fire, had a marked disadvantage. Miramon’s troops, excited by the example 
of their young chief, who was only twenty-six years of age, fought like lions, and 
performed prodigies of valour. 

Miramon’s lieutenants, into whom his soul seemed to have passed, placed them- 
ficlvcs at the head of the troops, and dashed into the thickest of the battle. One 
more effort, and the battle was gained, and Ortega forced to retreat. Miramon 
hurried up. He judged the position with an infallible glance. The moment had 


The Last Blow, 


up 


arrived to imrl his cavalry on the centre of the Juarists, and break it by a decisive 
charge. The president shouted “ Charge 1” The cavalry hesitated. Miramon re- 
peated the Older. T he cavalry set out, but, instead of charging, one-half went over to 
the enemy, and charged with couched lances the other half that still remained faithful. 

Cries of “ Treachery, treachery I ” ran along the ranks. In vain did the officers 
try to lead the soldiers against the enemy. They were demoralised. Ere long the 
fliviht became general. Miramon’s army no longer existed. 

We have said that F on Jaime took up a position with 1 is cuadrilla in the rear of 
Miramon’s cavalry. Certainly, if three hundred men could have changed the issue 
of the battle, these brave horsemen would have accomplished the prodigy. Even 
when the rout w^as general they continued fighting with unparalleled obstinacy 
against the Juarist cavalry. Don Jaime had an object in prolonging this unequal 
combat. As a witness of the unworthy treachery which had caused the loss of the 
battle, he had seen the officer who was the first to pass over to the enemy with his 
soldiers. This was Don Melchior. Don Jaime recognised him, and swore tQ 
capture him. The adventurer’s cuadrilla was not composed of common horsemen. 
In a few hurried words Don Jaime explained his intention. The horsemen uttered a 
yell of fury, and resolutely charged the enemy. There was a gigantic struggle of 
three hundred men against three thousand. The cuadrilla entirely disappeared. 
Then the Juarists began oscillating. Their ranks became loosened. There was a 
gap, and through this gap the cuadrilla passed, carrying Don Me chior in its centre 
—a prisoner. 

** To the president I to the president ! ’’ he shouted. 

Miramon’s lieutenants had sworn to die with him. The cuadrilla made a last charge 
for the purpose of disc ngaging the general. Then, after taking one despairing glance 
at the baft’ e-field, Miiamon consented to listen to his friend and retreat. 

The first moments of tr e retreat were terrible. Miramoa was suffering from a 
fearful sorrow, caused not by his defeat, which he had foreseen, but by the cowardly 
treachery of which he was the victim. 

Don Jaime advanced, and, stopping two paces from the president, he said— • 
“ General.” 

At the sound of this friendly voice Miramon raised his head. 

“Is it you,” he said, “my friend.^ Oh I why did I so obstinately refuse to 
believe you ? “ 

“ What is done is done, general,” the adventurer roughly answered. “We cannot 
recall it. But, before leaving the spot where we now arc, you have an exemplary 
act of justice to perform.” 

‘‘What do you mean ? ’’ he asked, with amazement. 

“ Y ou know why we w^ere defeated ? ’’ the adventurer continued. 

“ Because we were betrayed.” 

“ But do you know the traitor, general ? ” 

“ No, I do not,” he said, pa'^sionately. 

“ Well, I do. I was there when he carried out his cowardly project, and was 
watching him.” 

“ Wbat matter? The vill.iin cannot be reached now.” 

“ You are mistaken, general, for I have brought him to you.” 

Don Jnime gave a signal, and Don Melchior was brought up between two of the 
men. He was pale and haggard ; his torn clothes were stained with blood and 
mud; his hands were fastened behind his back. 

“ Your name? ” asked General Cobos. 

“ Don Melchior de la Cruz,” he replied, in a hollow voice. 

“ Do you acknowledge that you went over to die enemy, taking your command 
with you ? ” 


120 


Ttie Rebec Cnief, 


He made no answer, but his whole body was agitated by a convulsivo 
tremor. 

“ The court is certain of this man’s treachery,” Cobos continued ; “ what punish- 
ment does be deserve?’’ 

That of traitors ! ’’ the officers unanimously replied. 

“ Let it be carried into effect,” said Cobos. 

The condemned was forced on his knees. Ten corporals formed a firing party, 
and placed themselves six paces behind him. 

General Cobos then approached the condemned man. 

“ Coward and traitor,” he said, you are unworthy of your rank.** 

A soldier then removed the symbols of Don Melchior’s rank, and gave 
him a blow in the face. The young man uttered a tiger’s yell at this insult, looked 
around him in horror, and made a movement to rise. 

“ Fire I ” General Cobos shouted. 

A detonation was heard ; the criminal uttered a fearful cry of agony, and fell with 
his face on the ground, writhing in awful convulsions. 

“ Finish him ! ” Miramon said, pityiagly. 

“ No! ’’ Cobos cried, roughly ; “ let him die like a dog.** 

Miramon gave a look of disgust, and ordered the boot and saddle to be sounded. 
The troops set out. Only two men remained with the wretched man, watching him 
writhe at their feet in atrocious agony. These men were General Cobos and Don 
Jaime. Don Jaime bent down to him, raised his head, and forcing him to fix his 
glassy eyes on him, said in a hollow voice — • 

” Parrici 'e! Traitor to your country and your brothers, the latter avenge them- 
selves to-day. Die, like the dog you are ! ” 

“ Mercy I ” the wTetch cried, as he fell back. Mercy I ’* 

A final convulsion agitate I his body, his crisped features became hideous ; h« 
uttered a horrible yell, anJ stirred no more. Don Jaime kicked him. He was 
dead ! 

“ One! ** the adventurer said, hoarsely, as he remounted. 

“ What? ’’ asked General Cobos. 

** Nothing ; it is an account 1 am going over,” he replied, 


CHAPTER XSXIT. 

PACE TO 

When General Miramon arrived in Mexico, the news of his defeat was already pubffc. 
His first care, immediately he arrived in Mexico, was to assemble the diplomatic 
body, and beg its members to interpose for the sake of saving the city, by putting an 
end to a state of war which was no longer necessary from the moment when 
Mexico was prepared to open its gates to the Federal troops without a blow, 

A deputation, composed of the ministers of France and Spain, General Bircozabal, 
ifcie prisoner of Tacuba, and General Ayestaran, a particular friend of Miramon^ at 


Face to Face, 


lai 


once proceeded to General Ortega, in order to obtain an honourable capitulation* 
Don Antonio de Cacerbas had tried to join the deputation. He had heard of the de- 
plorable end of his friend, Don Melchior. But the gates of the city were carefully 
guarded; no one could leave without a pass signed by the Town Commandant, and 
so, Don Antonio wai forced to remain in Mexico. It was the day of Miramon’s 
return to Mexico, and about nine o’clock at night. Don Antonio had retired to his 
bedroom, and was reading, or, rather, trying to read ; for his tioubled conscience did 
not allow him the necessary calmness of mind to take this innocent amusement, 
when he heard some one talking rather loudly in his ante-room. He at once rose 
and prepared to open his door, in order to inquire the cause of the no’se he had 
heard, when this door opened, and his confidential servant appeared, acting as 
introducer of several persons. They were nine in number ; six masked men 
wrapped in zarapes, and three ladies. On seeing them, Don Antonio gave a nervous 
Stert, but, immediately recovering himself, he remained standing at the table, probably 
waiting till one of the strangers resolved on speaking. 

“ Senor Don Antonio,” one of them said, advancing a step, “ 1 bring you Dona 
Maria, Duchess de Tobar, your sister-in-law, Dona Carmen de Tobar, your nie<^ 
and Dona Dolores de la Cruz.” 

At these words, uttered with an accent of cutting irony, Don Antonio fell 
back. 

” I do not understand you,” he said, in a voice which he strove in vain to render 
firm. 

” Do you not recognise me, Don Horatio ? ” Dona Maria then said, in a soft 
voice ; “ I am the unhappy wife of the brother whom you assassinated ? ” 

” What means this farce ? ” Don Antonio exclaimed violently. “ This woman is 
mad ! And you, scoundrel, take care 1 ” 

The man to whom these words were addressed replied by a laugh of 
C3on tempt. 

“ You wish for witnesses to what is going to take place here, Caballero ? I presume 
you consider there are not enough of us to hear what is going to be said. Well, 
I consent; come put of your hiding-places senors, and you, caballeros, 
come.” 

At the same instant the tapestry was raised, the door opened, and some twenty 
persons entered the room. 

“Ah 1 you are calling witnesses !” Don Antonio said in a mocking voice. ” Well, 
then, your blood be upon your own head ! ” And turning to his men standing 
behind him, he shouted, “ Upon these scoundrels I ” 

But no one stirred. 

“Down with their masks,” the person who had alone spoken hitherto said, 
** they are unnecessary now. We must speak to this gentleman with uncovered 
faces.’* 

With a gesture he removed the mask that covered his face : his companions 
imitated him. The reader will have recognised them already. They were Don 
Jaime, Domingo, Count Ludovic, Leo Carral, Don Diego, and Loick the 
ranchero. 

“ Now, senor,** Don Jaime continued, “ put off your borrowed name, as we have 
thrown away our masks. Do you recognise me ? I am Don Jaime de Berar, your 
sister-in-law’s brother. For twenty-two years I have been following you step by step, 
Senor Don Horatio de Tobar, watching all your movements.** 

Don Horatio haughtily raised his head, and said — ** Well, what next, my noble 
brother-in-law, for, as you desire, I give up all feigning, and consent to recognise 
you ? What so grand and complete vengeance have you gained at the end of twenty- 
two years, nobie descendant of the Cid Campeador ? Is not a man ot my stamp 


Tsa 


The Rebel Chiefs 


always ready to die? What more can you do ? Nothing-. Suppose that I writhe 
bleeding at your feet, I shall bear with me to the tomb the secret of this vengeance 
which you do not suspect.” 

“Undeceive yourself, Don Horatio,” Don Jaime answered; “I know all your 
secrets : and, I will kill you, but by the hangman’s hand. Y ou shall die dis- 
honoured.” 

“ You lie, villain 1 ” Don Horatio exclaimed, with a roar like a wild beast ; “ I — 
I — the Duke de Tobar, noble as the king ! I die by the garotte 1 you are mad. I tell 
you there is a Spanish ambassador in Mexico.” 

“Yes,” Don Jaime answered, “but he leaves you to the rigour of the 
laws.” 

“ He, my friend, my protector, who introduced me to President Miramon ^ It is 
not so, it cannot be. Besides, what have I, a foreigner, to fear? ” 

“ Yes, a foreigner who took service with the Mexican service in order to betray it. 
That letter which you demanded so earnestly from Colonel Don Felipe, and which 
he refused to sell you, he gave me for nothing. Hence you are hopelessly lost. 
Lastly, I also possess your most precious secret — that which you believed so well 
guarded, I know of the existence of Dona Carmen’s twin brother ; I know also 
where he is, and can, if I like, suddenly bring him before you. See, here is the man, 
to whom you sold your nephew,’’ he added, pointing to Loick. 

“ Oh,” he muttered, falling back into a chair, “ I am lost ! ” 

“Yes, and most utterly los% Don Horatio,” he said, contemptuously, “for n<^ 
even death will be able to save you from dishonour.” 

“ Speak, in Heaven’s name ! ” Dona Maria exclaimed ; “ tell me tha» I am not 
m staken — that I have a son, in short, and that this son is the twin brother of my 
beloved Carmen.” 

“ Yes,” he muttered, in a low voice. 

“ Oh, thanks be to God ! ” she cried, with an expression of ineffable joy ; “ and 
you know where my son is? . Where is he ? tell me.” 

“ I do not know,” he answered, coldly. 

The unhappy mother sank into a chair, and buried her face in her hands. Don 
Jaime approached her. 

“ Courage, poor woman I ” he said to her gently. 

There was a moment of mournful silence. In the room where so many y)ersons 
were collected nothing was to be heard but the sound of oppiessed breathing and 
the stifled sobs of Dona Maria and the two young ladies. Don Horatio advanced a 
s^ep. 

“ My noble brother-in-law,” he said, in a firm voice, “ request these caballeros to 
retire ; I wish to be alone with you and my sister-in-law for a few minutes.” 

Don J aime bowed, and addressing the count said — 

“ My friend, be kind enough to conduct these ladies into the adjoining 
room.” 

The count offered his hand to the young ladies, and went out without a 
word. 

Dominique alone remained with a flashing eye fixed on Don Horatio. 

“ As for me,” he said, in a sullen voice, “ as I do not know what is going to 
happen here, I will not go except by the express orders of Don Jaime.” 

“ Remain then, senor,” Don Horatio replied, with a smile, “ since you may 
belong to our family.” 

“ Brother-in-law,” he said to Don Jaime, “that son, whom you carried off from 
my sister, the heir of the Dukes de Tobar, whom you believe lost, 1 saved. 
Dominique, embrace your mother.” 

^Mother I ” the young man cried, bounding wildly towards her, “ mother 1 ^ 


J^ace to Face. 


123 


** My son ! ” Dona Maria murmurerl, in a faltering voice. 

Though resolute against grief, like all choice natures, joy had overcome her. 
Dominique raised his mother, and laid her on a sofa; then, with frowning bro.vs, 
eyes full of fury, and clenched teeth, he slowly advanced to Don Horatio. The 
latter fell back step by step before him, until at length, feeling the tapestry at his 
•ihoulder, he was involuntarily forced to stop. 

“ Assassin of my father, torturer of my mother,” the young man said, in a terrible 
voice, “ coward and villain, my curses on you ! ” 

Don Horatio bowed his head before this anathema, and said — 

“God is just! my punishment is beginning. I knew that this man was alive. 
By great search I had succeeded in finding again, under the name of Loick, the 
wretch to whom 1 sold him at the house of his birth.” 

“Yes,” said Don Jaime, “and this Loick, whom want led into crime, 
repented.” 

“ Brother, you possess nearly all the proofs of the horrible crimes I have com- 
mitted ; but here are the ones you want,” he added, handing him a bundle of 
papers. “ Unconsciously, perhaps, remorse had already entered my heart ; here is 
my will — take it ; it appoints my nephew my sole htir, while establishing his rights 
in an undeniable manner; but the name of De Tobar must not be sullied. For your 
own sake and that of your nephew, w! ose name is mine, do not carry out the 
cruel vengeance you meditated against me.” 

Don Jaime and Dominique remained gloomy and silent. 

“ Will you refuse me ? are you pitiless } ” he anxiously exclaimed. 

At this moment Dona Maria left the sofa on which her son had laid her ; walk- 
ing with a slow and mechanical step towards Don Horatio, she placed herself 
between him, her brother, and her son. 

“ Brother of my husband, vengeance belongs to God alone ! In the name of the 
mnn whom I loved so dearly, and whom your cruel hand tore from me, I forgive 
you the frightful tortures you have inflicted on me. 1 pardon you, and may God be 
merciful to you I ” 

“ You are a saint,’’ said Don Horatio ; “ I am unworthy of forgiveness.’* 

He then tried to kiss her hand, but st.e recoiled with a start of terror. 

** It is just,” he said, sadly ; “ I am unworthy to touch you.” 

“No,” she replied, “since repentance has entered your heart.” 

And turning away her head, she offeied him her hand. Don Horatio respectfully 
pressed his lips to it, and then turned to his brother-in-law and nephew, who had not 
moved. 

“ Will you alone,” he asked sadly, “ be pitiless ? ” 

“ We no longer have the right to punish,” Don Jaime said, in a hollow voice. 

Dominique hung his head and maintained a sullen silence ; his mother 
approached. 

“ What do you want, mother ? ” he asked. 

** I have pardoned this man,” she said imploringly, in a gentle voice. 

“ Mother,” he replied, with an accent of implacable hatred, “ when I cursed this 
man it was my father who spoke oy my iips. Cain, I say, what hast thou done 
with thy brother ? ” 

At these words, uttered in an awful tone, Don Horatio sank senseless on the 

floor. 

Don Jaime and Dona Maria recoiled from him with horror. He remained lying 
on the ground for some minutes, and the persons present did not make a movement 
to succour him ; at length Dona Maria leant over him. 

“ Stay, mother I ” the young man exclaimed, “ do not touch that wretch ; the con- 
taa would suUy you.** 


124 


The Rebel Chief. 


I have forgiven him,” she said feebly. 

** You insist,” said Don Horatio to Dominique ; be it so ; the reparation shall "be 
striking.” 

He felt in the carefully locked drawer of a table, which he opened by means of a 
key round his neck by a gold chain, took something they could not see out of it, 
closed the drawer again, then walking with a firm step to the d^or, he threw it wid^ 
open. 

** Come in, Caballeros, all of you ! ” he cried, in a loud voice. 

In a second the room was filled with people. The Count de la Saulay and Don 
Estevan alone remained in the sitting-room with the young ladies, upon receiving 
a sign from Don Jaime. Don Jaime then walked up to his sister, and offered her 
his arm. 

** Come,” he said to her, “ come, Maria, this scene is killing you.” 

Dona Maria offered but a slight resistance, and followed her brother, who led her 
into the sitting-room, the door of which he closed after them. The rolling of a 
carriage was heard, in which the three ladies returned home under the count’s escort. 
At the same moment a clash of arms was audible outside. 

“ What is^that ? ” Don Horatio asked, with a start of terror. 

Numerous footsteps approached, the doors were noisily opened, and soldiers 
appeared. At their head came the prefect of the city, the alcalde mayor, and several 
corchetes. 

In the name of the law,” the prefect said, ** Don Antonio i!e Cacerbas, you are 
my prisoner.” 

“ Don Antonio de Cacerbas no longer exists,” Don Jaime said. 

‘‘Thanks,” the latter said ; “ thanks for having saved the honour of my name* 
Senors,” he said in a loud voice, pointing to Dominique, “ this is the Duke de Tobar. 
I am a great criminal.” 

“ Forward, corchetes ! ” the prefect cried ; “ seize that man, I tell you.” 

“Come on, then,” Don Horatio answered, as he quickly raised his hand to his 
mouth. 

Suddenly he turned pale, tottered like a drunken man, and rolled on the floor 
without even a sigh. He was dead. Don Horatio had poisoned himself. 

“ Senors,” Don Jaime then said to the prefect and the alcalde mayor, “ your duty 
ceases with the death of the culprit.” 

“ May God pardon the unhappy man this last crime ! ” the prefect said $ “ we 
have nothing more to do here.” 

And, after bowing ceremoniously, he withdrew with his foilowera 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


_ EPILOGUE. THE HATCHET. 

In tfie meanwhile political events advanced with a fatal rapidity. The deputation 
sent to General Ortega returned to Mexico without obtaining any capitulation. I'he 
situation was becoming excessively critical ; under the circumstances. General 
Miramon displayed extreme self-denial ; not wishing to compromise the city of 
Mexico further, he resolved to abandon it on the same night. He therefore proceeded 
to the ayuntamiento, to whom he proposed to appoint a temporary president. The 
ayuntamiento unanimously applied to General Bircozabal, who generously accepted 
this difficult office. 

During this time Miramon made all his preparations for departure. Not being 
able to take his wife and children with him on a flight whose incidents might be 
sanguinary, he resolved to trust them to the Spanish ambassador. Had he wished 
it, Miramon could have gone away without having any violence to apprehend from 
Juarez’s partisans. Naturally good-hearted, i: he was regarded as a political adver- 
sary, no one hated him as a personal enemy. 

Don Jaime de Berar had spent a portion of the day with the general, consoling 
him as well as he could, and aiding him to gather together the scattered fragments 
of the different corps which were still hesitating which side to join. Count de la 
Saulay and the Duke de Tobar, after keeping the ladies company for the whole 
evening, and talking with them about the strange events of the previous day, at 
length took their leave, feeling somewhat alarmed about the protracted absence of 
Don Jaime, owing to the confusion that prevailed at the moment in the city ; they 
had just reached home, and were preparing to retire for the night, when Raimbaut, 
the count’s valet, announced Lopez. 

Oh, oh I ” the duke said to him, “ what an arsenal you have about you, 
Lopez I ” 

“ Have you a communication to make to us? ’’ the count asked. 

I have only this to say to your excellency : Two and one make three.** 

By Heaven 1 ” the young man exclaimed, rising spontaneously. “Arm your- 
selves as well as your domestics immediately. Hold your horses saddled, and 
wait.” 

When Don Jaime arrived at about eleven o’clock his friends were dressed in 
travelling costume, had put on their spurs, and placed revolvers in their belts, and 
were now smoking and waiting, with their sabres and guns lying before them on a 
table. 

** Bravo ! ** he said, “ we are off.** 

Whenever you like.” 

“ Are we going far ? ” the duke asked. 

** I do not think so; but there may be a fight. 

**A11 the better,” they said. 

We have nearly half an hour before us. It is more than sufficient for me to teU 
you what I intend doing.’* 

“ Very good. Go on.** 


The Rebel Chief. 


ia6 


“You are aware that I am very intimate with General Miramon/’ he continued. 
The young men nodded an affirmative. 

“ This is what is happening. The general has collected about fifteen hundred 
men, and hopes, with this escort, to be able to reach Vera Cruz.’* 

“ Have things reached this point already 1 ” the count asked, 

“All is over. Mex'co has surrendered to the Juarists.” 

“All the worse. Well, let them settle the matter among themselves,” the count 
naid. “ It does not concern us.’* 

“ I do not see in all this,’’ said the duke, “ the part we have to play.** 

“ It is this,” Don Jaime continued ; “ Miramon believes he can reckon on the 
fifteen hundred men. But I am persuaded to the contrary. The soldiers are 
attached to him it is true, but they detest certain persons who are going with him. 1 
fear lest Miramon in this w’ay may be made prisoner,” 

“ That is what will probably happen,” the count remarked, with a shake of the 
head. 

“ That is exactly what I wish to avoid,” he said, “ and for this 1 have reckoned oa 
you.” 

“ By Jove, you were right.” 

“ You could net make a better choice.” 

“ In that case, you two and myself, Leo Carral, and your two servants, form ^ a 
body of seven resolute men, in whom it will be possible to trust ; moreover, your 
quality as foreigners will enable us to complete our task by concealing the general 
among us.” 

“ Where he will be in perfect safety,” 

“However, all that I am saying to you is very uncertain at present ; perhaps the 
escort will remain faithful to the general.” 

“ Well, let us trust to heaven,” said the count ; “ there is about this young maa 
something grand and chivalrous.” 

“ Now that we are agreed as to facts, suppose we set out,” said the duke. 

They wrapped themselves' in their cloaks, and took their weapons. 

“ Let us be off,” said Don Jaime. 

The servants were waiting in readiness. The seven horsemen left the house, and 
proceeded in the direction of the Plaza Moyor, where the troops had asse nbled. The 
Plaza Mayor was extremely animated, the soldiers were fraternising with the people, 
talking and laughing as if the affair going on at this moment was the most ordinary 
matter in the world. General Miramon feigned a calmness aiKi eordiality doubtless 
absent from his heart. He talked with remarkable freedom of mind, defending with- 
out bitterness the acts of his government, and taking leave, without reproaches or 
recriminations, of those who through selfishness had abandoned him, and whose 
handiwork his downfall was. 

“ Ah I ” he said, on perceiving Don Jaime, “ you arc really going with 
me ? ” 

“ Ah, general,*’ he replied, gaily, “ the remark is most unkind.” 

“ You are well aware that you ought not to take it in ill part.** 

“ The proof is that I have brought two friends of mine.” 

“ I beg them to accept my thanks. Happy is the man who, in falling from such 
a height, has friends to render his fall less heavy.” 

“ You have no reason to complain, for you do not want for friends,” the count 
remarked. 

“ It is true,” he muttered ; “ I am not alone yet.” 

The conversation continued in this tone for some time. An hour after midnight 
Struck at the Sagrario, Miramon drew himself up.^ 

** Let us go, gentlemen,” he said, in a firm voice ; “ the hour has arrivetU* 


Epilog u e — T ae Ha tchet. 


127 


^ Sound the boot and saddle ! ” an officer shouted. 

The bugles sounded. A sudden movement began in the crowd, who were drivtJl 
back unfler the portalis. The soldiers mounted and closed up. The calmness was 
re-established, as if by enchantment, and a silence of death brooded over this immense 
square, which was covered with people, and literally paved with heads. Miramon 
sat upright on his horse in the midst of his troops. 

“ Forward ! ” shouted the general. 

The troops started. The march commenced. At tiie same instant shouts of 
** Long live Miramon ! ” were raised on all sides. 

“ They regret me already,” the general ssid in a low voice to Don Jaime ; “ and 
yet I have not left them.” 

The troops slowly passed through the city followed by the crowd, who seemed 
desirous, by paying this last respect to the fallen president, to prove to him the estee^n 
of which he was personally the object. At length, at about two o’clock in the morn- 
ing, they reached the city gates. All at once a certain hesitation seemed to be 
displayed, and a sullen agitation prevailed in the ranks. 

‘‘ Attention ! there is something going to happen,” Don Jaime muttered. 

Ere long this agitation increased, and a few cries were heard from the vanguard. 

“ What is going cn there } ” Miramon asked. 

“ Your soldiers are revolting,” Don Jaime said, bluntly. 

“ Oh, it is not possible ! ” he exclaimed. 

At the same instant there was a terrible explosion of cries, in which prevailed the 
shout of “ Long live Juarez ! the hatchet 1 the hatchet 1 ” 

The hatchet is, in Mexico, the symbol of federation. This shout for the hatchet 
at once ran from one rank along the other, became general, and ere long the con- 
fusion and disorder were at their height. Juarez’s partisans mingled with the 
troops. 

“ General, you must fly 1 ” Don Jaime said, hurriedly. 

“Never,” the president answered ; “ 1 will die with my friends.” 

“ You will be massacred without succeeding in saving them y besides, look I they 
are deserting you themselves.” ** 

It was trU&v;>tbe president’s friends had dis^nded in all directions, 

“ What is to-be done ? ” the general exclaimed. 

“ Cut a way through,” Don Jaime answered. “ Forward !” 

At the same instant the insurgents dashed with couched lances at the small group 
of which Miramon formed the centre. There was a frightful medley for some 
minutes; Don Jaime and his friends, who were well mounted, succeeded at length 
in cutting a passage, through which they dragged the general in their midst. 

Then they set off at a mad gallop. 

“ Where are we going ? ” the president asked. 

“ To Mexico ; it is the only spot where they will not d^ream of looking for you.” 

An hour later they passed through the gate again, and re-entered the city, mixed 
up with the disbanded troops, who were raising deafening cries of “ Long live 
Juarez ! ” and themselves shouting more loudly than those who surrounded them. 
Once inside the city they separated ; Miramon and Doii Jaime remained alone. 
On the morrow the scene appeared as tranquil as if nothing extraordinary had 
occurred. 

Don Jaime, however, was not tranquil ; he was afraid that if Miramon remained 
any length of time in the city, his presence might eventually become known; hence 
he sought an opportunity to get him away. Several days had elapsed; the revolu- 
tion was hnished, and matters had resumed tlteir ordinary course, when Juarez ai 
length arrived from Vera Cruz. The first operation of the new president was, as 
Miramon had truly foreseen, to intimate to the ambassador of Spain his expulsion 


The Rebel Chief. 


128 


from the Mexican territoiy. Similar notifications were made on the same day 
the legate of the Holy See, and to the representatives of Guatemala and Ecuador. 

The opportunity which Don Jaime had so long sought was at length offered him. 
Miramon would depart not with the Spanish ambassador, but with the representative 
of Guatemala. This was what really happened. The departure of the expelled 
ministers took place on the same day. They were the Spanish ambassador, the 
legate of the Holy See, the representative of Guatemala, and the minister of Ecuador. 

Miramon, whose wife and children had left several days previously, followed the 
minister of Guatemala in disguise. Count de la Saulay and the Duke de Tobar 
proceeded, on their side, to Vera Cruz, escorting Dona Maria and the two young 
ladies. Don Jaime, who was unwilling to abandon his friend, travelled with the 
ambassador, attended by Don Lopez. Don Esrevan alone remained in Mexico. 

Some days later, the “ Velasco,” a Spanish man-of-war, sailed loi Havannali 
with all our characters on board. 

«»** 4 :*« 0 * 

On January 15th, 1863, a double marriage was celebrated at Havannah. 

That ’of the 'Count de la Saulay wdth Dona Carmen de Tobar, and that of tfie 
Duke de Tobai with Dona Dolores de la Ci uz. 

The vsdtnesses were the ambassador of her Catholic Majesty to Mexico, General 
Miramon, the commander of the “ Velasco,” and the ex-minister of Guatemala. 

It was the legate of the Holy See who gave the nuptial blessing. 

Count de la Saulay, we understand, lately set out again for Mexico, in order to 
claim, by the aid of the French intervention, the immense estates which his wife 
possesses in that country, and which the government of Juarez thought proper to 
confiscate. 

Don Jaime de Berar accompanies his friend. Leo Cairal is with ca^» 








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cated and obstinate cases of ieucorrhea, 
or “ whites,” excessive flowing at month- 
ly periods, painful menstruation, unnat- 
ural suppressions, prolapsus or falling 
of the womb, weak bs^ck, “female weak- 
ness,” an teversion, retroversion, bearing- 
down sensations, chronic congestion, in- 
flammation and ulceration of the womb, 
inflammation, pain and tenderness in 
ovaries, accompanied with internal heat. 

In pregnancy, “Favorite Prescrip- 
tion” is a “mother’s cordial,” relieving 
nausea, weakness of stomach and other 
distressing symptoms common to that 
condition. If its use is kept up in the 
latter months of gestation, it so prepares 
the system for delivery as to greatly 
lessen, and many times almost entirely 
do away with the sufferings of that try- 
ing ordeal. • 

‘‘ Favorite Prescription,” whetr 
taken in connection with the use of 
Dr. Pierce’s Golden Medical Discovery, 
and small laxative doses of Dr. Pierce’s 
Purgative Pellets (Little Liver Pills), 
cures Liver, Kidney and Bladder dls 
eases. Their combined use also removes 
blood taints, and abolishes cancerous 
and scrofulous humors from the system. 

Treating tlie Wrong Disease.— 
Many times women call on their family 
physicians, suffering, as they imagine, 
one from dyspepsia, another from heart 
disease, another from liver or kidney 
disease, another from nervous exhaus- 
tion or prostration, another with pain 
here or there, and in this way they all 
present alike to themselves and their 
easy-going and indifferent, or over-busy 
doctor, separate and distinct diseases, 
for which he prescribes his pills and 
potions, assuming them to be such, 
when, in reality, they are all only symp^ 
toms caused by some womb disorder. 
The physician, ignorant of the cause of 
suffering, encourages his practice until 
large bills are made. The suffering pa- 
tient gets no better, but probably worse 
by reason of the delay, wrong treatment 
and consequent complications. A prop- 
er medicine, like Dr. Pierce’s Favorite 
Prescription, directed to the cause would 
have entirely removed the disease, there- 
by dispelling all those distressing symp- 
toms, and instituting comfort instead of 
prolonged misery. 

“Favorite Prescription” is the 

only medicine for women sold, by drug- 
gists, under a positive guarantee, 
from the manufacturers, that it will 
give satisfaction in every case, or money 
will be refunded. This guarantee has 
been printed on the bottle- wrapper, and 
faithfully carried out for many years. 
Farge bottles (1(X) doses) $1.00, or 
six bottles for $5.00. 

Send ten cents in stamps for Dr, 
Pierce’s large, illustrated Treatise (160 
pages) on Diseases of Women. Address^ 
World’s Dispensary Medical Association, 
lio, MAUi BUFFALO^ N, r« 


Oyer 0 juilllon worn during the six years. This marvelous success is duel- 
ist— To the superiority of GOBALINE over all other materials, as a stiffener £oi 
Corsets. 

2nd. — To the superior quality, shape and workmanship of our Corsets, combined 
with their low prices. 

Avoid cheap imitations made of various kinds of cord. None are genuine unless 
**DR. WARNER’S CORALINE ” is printed on inside of steel cover. 

FOB SALE BT AIJi LEADIBO MEBCHANTS. 

WARNER BROTHERS, 359 BROADWAY, NEW YORK. 



w^L^XIBLE HlP^'^'HEALTH-:^NURSING--ir^^'^ j 

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